Kurt's Gamble
by The Drowned World
Summary: Kurt is tired of being the golden boy, and living with Finn, and being picked on. When he snaps, it's an explosion no one sees coming. But when Kurt uses Puck to try to shake up his image, things get...complicated. Kurt/Puck. Complete.
1. 1 What Is This Feeling?

**A/N:** I _love_ "Glee!" LOVE it. And it sort of caught me off-guard, because it seemed like one of those things that I so would _not_ get into. And when it was like eight episodes in, I finally caved and decided to hop on my good friend Project Free TV and see what all the fuss was about. I watched all the way through "Wheels" in one night without pause, bought the soundtrack the day it came out, and bought a poster to put on my wall. God, it just creeps up on you, doesn't it?

So, naturally, I've been reading "Glee" fanfiction, and that got my bug going. This year has been really difficult for me, and I've been venting all my frustration out on my poor _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ fanfiction characters, so after the epic awesomeness that was "Journey" (the finale), I've decided to cheer myself up and write this. This plot bunny just sort of popped into my head, and it makes me cheerful to write it, so I'm going to, even though this pairing just…shouldn't…be…fun. Or so I keep telling myself.

Anyway:

**Universe:** _Glee_

**Timeline:** Set about a week after the events of the season one finale, "Journey" and veers into AU territory from there (also assumes that there are still a few months of the school year left after regionals).

**Rating:** **T** for some light sexual content and language

**Pairings:** Kurt/Puck, one-sided Kurt/Finn, Finn/Rachel, Artie/Tina

**Warnings:** Features some music but is not a songfic. Also, assumes that Finn has moved back in with the Hummel family after the explosion in "Theatricality," and that things are _not_ okay between him and Kurt at the moment. Also, naturally, slash. You've been warned.

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

1. What Is This Feeling?

There's a certain quality to Kurt Hummel's voice whenever he's insulting one Noah Puckerman. His entire body gets in on the action – his pale skin gains color and immediacy; his perfectly plucked eyebrows snap together stormily; his full, almost feminine lips curl into a classic 1900's Hollywood-worthy sneer; his clear hazel eyes darken to the color of thunderous skies; and his voice drops down so that he sounds almost like your average guy when he opens his mouth and bites off "_Idi_ot." It's almost an art form, really. Puck shrugged and shoved him into the nearest janitor's closet, then shut the door so he can't get out.

Daily ritual completed, Puck headed off toward Mike, Matt and Santana as they went toward the glee club meeting Mr. Schuester had called after school. Puck gave Mercedes a wide berth as the exasperated chocolate diva let her friend out of the closet (and Puck just _had_ to laugh meanly there). They all head off to glee together, though, and that's where they all promptly stop fighting because they all generally like and respect Mr. Schuester too much to want him to give them his devastatingly effective 'I'm so disappointed in you because you're worth more than this' puppy dog eyes of doom. Puck figured that if he could master those eyes he'd be back in Finn and Quinn's good graces like _that_.

"Hey, guys!" Mr. Schue boomed on seeing them. Puck was a total badass, but even he had to admit (to himself) that he actually _liked_ the fact that Schue is always so genuinely happy to see all of them. When they were all sitting, he beamed at them magnanimously. "So, I know that his out first official meeting since regionals, but I figure that we should really get started again!"

"Get started on what?" Finn asked, confused (_to be fair, he's confused most of the time_, Puck thought).

"Everything else!" Rachel exclaimed eagerly. She and Finn were still in the early, puppy love stages of their relationship, and though Finn somehow managed to calm her down a bit, she was still _way_ too excited about anything and everything to do with performing in front of people. Their loss at regionals hadn't even managed to slow her down. "I mean, we've still got three whole months of school left – pep rallies, sports events, a school play, and other glee assignments; we need to do anything and everything we can to stay on edge!"

"Your voice has me on edge," Kurt muttered viciously from somewhere behind Puck, low enough that no one else heard him, and Puck stifled a surprised laugh. Kurt snorted rudely, and Mercedes hissed warningly at both of them before they caught Mr. Schuester's attention.

"That's right, Rachel – I couldn't have said it better myself," Mr. Schue praised her. She preened at the compliment.

"I think that you could have said it better," said Brittany. "Sometimes Rachel's clothes make her voice louder than it is." Kurt sounded like he was having an aneurism trying to not say anything, but the rest of New Directions was too used to Brittanyisms to say much.

"Erm…thank you, Brittany," said Schue. "Anyways, as you all responded so brilliantly to the ballads assignment a while back, I'd like you each to pair off with your respective partners from that assignment. No ballads this time, though! I want you to duet on a song (or more than one song, if you'd like) and accompany it with either an act or a dance, and present it to the group by the end of the month! We're a show choir, so I think it's time we…showed!" He flourished his hands happily.

Puck shrugged at Mercedes – they worked well together, vocally, although things had been a little strained between them since that whole dating fiasco. And he did _not_ dwell on that sanctimonious little speech she'd given him about not liking himself. He liked himself just fine. But the entire room went into a shocked sort of silence when Kurt Hummel stood up and said in a tone like ice, "Mr. Schuester, I'd like to switch partners."

Well, Puck hadn't seen _that_ one coming. _Everyone_ knew that Hummel carried a torch the size of Australia for Finn (_well, except for Finn_), and he'd been over his little sparkly moon when he and Finn had to sing ballads to each other. Sure, Finn was dating Rachel now, but Puck smelled a story. Kurt was doing his usual ice prince routine, but he was pointedly looking anywhere _but_ the other side of the room, where people were staring at him, and Finn looked like he'd been sucker-punched while Rachel just looked royally pissed. Even Mr. Schuester looked taken aback.

"But, Kurt, you and Finn work really well together," Schue reminded him, nonplussed.

"I'd prefer to work with someone else," Kurt rejoined flatly. "And besides, I'm the best performer in here other than Rachel—" His lip curled slightly when he admitted that part "—and I could work with someone who's struggling more than _he_ is to help up their game." He sounded coldly logical about the whole thing, but the way he wouldn't even say Finn's name had Puck sitting up. Some drama was better than no drama, and he was starting to be really grateful that he'd shown up today at all. Finn was looking more and more like Hummel's deathly cold voice had him feeling like the gay kid had run over his puppy, and Puck watched interestedly as Schue tried to think of what to say.

"Well, Kurt, the goal was to keep the teams the same because of the familiarity," he began, but in an unprecedented show of balls the pixyish soprano stepped forward and cut him off.

"I'm perfectly comfortable working with anyone in this room – in fact, I could perform with Rachel right now, as we're both ready." He eyed Rachel challengingly, and she angrily stood up as if to say, _bring it on_. The rest of the club watched, enthralled, as Mr. Schuester's hot air balloon of optimism deflated a bit. "I thought we could tackle 'What Is This Feeling?' from _Wicked_," Kurt continued. Rachel raised her eyebrow at the song choice, not that Puck recognized it. But before she could say anything, Kurt nodded to Brad the piano man (_Holy shit! Was he there the whole time?_ Puck wondered, creeped out) before the two pissed off singers eyed each other with all the feeling of someone scraping dog crap off of their shoe, and then the singing began, and Puck was too busy grinning at the lyrics and the dramatic performance to say anything else.

**Kurt:** _What is this feeling, so sudden and new?_

**Rachel:** _I felt the moment I laid eyes on you?_

**Kurt:** _My pulse is rushing—_

**Rachel:** _My head is reeling—_

**Kurt:** _My face is flushing—_

**Together:** _What is this feeling?_

_Fervent as a flame_

_Does it have a name?_

_Yes…loathing!_

_Unadulterated loathing!_

_For—_

**Kurt:** _Your face!_

**Rachel:** _Your voice!_

**Kurt:** _Your clothing!_

**Together: **_Let's just say:_

_I loathe it all!_

_Every little trait, however small_

_Makes my very flesh begin to crawl_

_With simple, utter loathing_

_There's a strange exhilaration_

_In such total detestation—_

_It's so pure, so strong!_

_Though I do admit, it came on fast—_

_Still, I do believe that it can last_

_And I will be loathing_

_For, forever loathing_

_Truly, deeply loathing you_

_My whole life long!_

By the end of the performance, they were both flushed and in each other's faces and too enraged to notice that most of the club was cheering the way that their voices had blended into a strangely wonderful melody. Maybe it was how hurt and small Finn looked…nah, it was definitely the way that Rachel and Kurt looked ready to go Freddy Krueger on each other's faces that had Mr. Schuester leading the room in applause as he stepped between the warring sopranos, Puck decided.

"Well, Kurt, I think that you definitely made your point," he said, trying to quell the looks on Kurt and Rachel's faces. "And since I don't want you to fall back on working with Mercedes all the time, I think that we could just have the two of you swapping partners—"

"—and put me with the _creature_?" Kurt asked, horrified, gesturing at Puck.

"Hey!" Puck said indignantly.

"Take it or leave it," Schuester said flatly. After what appeared to be a furious internal war that Puck watched play out on the other boy's incredibly expressive face, a war that had Puck interested in the outcome despite himself, Kurt bowed his head as if he had just been told he had incurable brain cancer. Puck would have felt offended if he didn't think that the coming weeks between the two of them might be downright interesting with this new, non-Finn-obsessed Kurt.

"Kurt, can we talk?" Finn asked as Schue wrote the assignment change down in his notebook.

"No," Kurt said flatly, not even glancing in his direction.

Even Quinn was staring at him in unconcealed shock now, and she hadn't been really engaged in anything glee-related since they'd sang "To Sir, with Love" to Mr. Schue a week back.

"Kurt—do you need to go shopping or something?" Mercedes offered.

"Or, you could help Tina and I shelve books in the library for our community service assignment in civics class," Artie offered helpfully.

"I'm not depressed!" Kurt protested loudly, drawing the club's attention their way once more. Mr. Schuester was regarding the boy like he was a volcano about to erupt, and, really, considering how little Kurt actually lost control like this the comparison wasn't a bad one. "I do _not_ have to hang on to _Finn Hudson's_ every word just to get by!" Even Mercedes was drawing back in amazement; Finn was just looking sick to his stomach with guilt. "And I do more than shopping and rule-following! I just want people to stop treating me—"

"—like a girl?" Puck suggested meanly. _If looks could kill…_ "Well, if you aren't depressed, what _are_ you feeling?" He surprised himself by actually wondering about the answer.

Kurt's fists clenched, his color rose, and Puck realized suddenly that Kurt was totally colorless today – designer pants and shirt, sure, but no color, no frills, lace, scarves, or fancy shoes. "I…am…_pissed_," Kurt said furiously.

"Well, if you don't want me to tell you you're a girl, quit acting like one," Puck said reasonably. Which was apparently the really _wrong_ thing to say, as Kurt stood up and in his anger managed to make himself look about a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, trembling with pure emotion as he lifted his bag.

"I am _not_ a _girl_!" he roared, voice coming out surprisingly deep. The entire room had gone very quiet as their eyes were glued on Kurt. Finn was looking guilty and heartsick, as if Kurt going off the deep end was all his fault somehow. "I am _mad_ as _hell_!" With that, he swung his shoulder bag around so hard it caught Puck full-force in the back of the head, making him yelp in surprised pain as he tumbled forward and fell off his chair.

"Kurt, this meeting isn't over," Mr. Schuester protested weakly as Kurt stalked toward the door like an enraged cat.

"Whoops," said the boy who'd never missed a class by choice, his voice hard and cold as icicles, and with that, he left, slamming the door behind him so violently that the glass rattled.

"Um…what the _hell_ just happened?" Santana asked, which Puck thought pretty much summed it all up.

"He's possessed!" Mercedes suggested.

"Don't look at _me_ when you say that!" Tina protested.

"Why did he say 'whoops'? He left on purpose. When I have accidents, I don't tell people," Brittany said. Santana patted her hand awkwardly.

"Er…Mercedes, maybe _you_ should work with Kurt this month…" Mr. Schuester said, sounding worried.

"Nah, Mr. Schue," Puck said determinedly. "I got this."

Oh, yeah – things were _definitely_ getting more interesting around here…

**A/N:** So, what'd you think? It was more fun than I thought it would be, especially trying to come up with something that Brittany would say! And I'm sorry if Kurt seems somewhat OOC during this, but I just can't see him going through Finn being such a supreme jerk at the end of "Theatricality," losing at regionals, having to continue living with Finn despite all the drama, going through his dad and Finn bonding, and being treated the way he's treated without finally just plain losing it, so you'll have to tell me.

The next chapter should be up soon. Reviews are love!


	2. 2 Duck and Fire

**A/N:** Wow, guys! Thanks for all of the positive reactions to this story! I hope that this chapter lives up to your expectations. It isn't as action-packed as the last, but this is more to set up the next chapter, which should be posted soon.

So, with all that out of the way, let's get down to why you came here:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

2. Duck and Fire

Puck has been in detention more times than he could possibly count. But never, ever, had he expected to be there because of Kurt Hummel cussing at a teacher – not just _any_ teacher, either. The assistant principal, for the love of god! And now here Puck was, being dragged into a detention that wasn't his fault, with Mr. Schuester giving them both the disappointed puppy dog eyes, and it's the most maddening thing that all Puck can notice is that Kurt isn't even paying attention; he's doodling on a piece of paper and rolling his eyes irritably.

Well, Hummel had definitely changed lately – showing up to school in jeans and a T-shirt, for one thing. Mercedes had looked like she was going to pass out in shock. And all Puck had done was try to talk to him about their upcoming glee duet assignment. For once, he was being all innocent and shit, and now look where he was! Kurt had argued with him so violently that none of the glee kids who were either watching the show or participating in it had noticed the bell was ringing, which led Mr. Ayers, scowling, to come over to them to inform them that they were all late for school.

When Kurt's mouth had opened, Puck had known that he was in for something bad.

**24 Hours Earlier**

After Kurt had stormed out of glee (and about 10,000 times more effectively than Rachel had ever done it, Brittany pointed out helpfully), Mr. Schuester had dismissed them early. It was a smart move; they were all too busy wondering over Kurt's behavior to sing much of anything. Puck shot Schue an apologetic look as the poor guy looked like his Christmas had been cancelled. Jeeze – the guy needed a social life if a setback with glee club put him down this much.

As the kids all wandered out into the halls and promptly broke up into smaller cliques, Puck unobtrusively snuck through each of the groups, listening in on their conversations. One of the benefits of having made that monumental mistake of sleeping with Quinn was that he was still mostly ignored by his teammates, and so they didn't pay him much mind as he listened in on them.

"I think it's a good thing – maybe he's finally realized that Finn ain't a fudgepacker," Santana said crudely.

"Don't talk about Kurt like that!" Quinn snapped irritably, leaving Santana and Brittany to stare after her as she caught up with Mercedes. Puck remembered that ever since she'd been booted from the Cheerios, the gay kid and the black girl (two of the oldest of McKinley's rejects) had been two of the only people who consistently stood up for her.

"Do you think that _she's_ sleeping with Kurt, too?" Brittany asked. "Because he isn't a very good kisser."

"You _kissed_ that fag?" Santana asked, nonplussed.

"I think so. Sometimes I forget who I'm kissing and I pretend that it's you. But you scare me in my head because you keep yelling at me," Brittany admitted. Santana sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward.

Puck ducked away from them before he could hear any more. Santana was starting to ride his nerves lately, and he just didn't care enough about her to wonder what other slur she was going to throw in just because she could. He didn't stop to think about the fact that he'd called Kurt a fudgepacking faggot to his face not two weeks ago. He was too interested in the chaos to think much about the irony in his own thoughts.

He drifted back to the original group of gleeks – Mercedes, Tina, and Artie (with Quinn joining them in place of Kurt). "It's just so…I mean, he's never been mean to _me_ before," Mercedes was saying, sounding quite hurt. Quinn clasped her hand in mute sympathy.

"I've never seen him be mean to _anyone_ before – well, except for the jocks, and they don't even count," Tina observed. "Maybe having to work with Puck after being tossed in the dumpster so many times just finally snapped him."

"But that doesn't explain the complete weirdness that is Kurt and Finn right now," Mercedes interjected with a frown. "Did you see Finn's face when Kurt flat-out rejected him? He looked like he'd swallowed one of Puck's pee balloons."

"That's true," Artie said. "But, still, as many outfits as Puck's ruined in that dumpster and with all those slushie facials, it can't be easy for Kurt to just—"

"Well, yeah," Quinn interrupted. "But Kurt's head over heels for Finn; he always has been."

"Well, things have been really whack between them since Finn and his mom moved into Kurt's dad's house," Mercedes said thoughtfully. "Maybe he's so used to being an only child that now that he has to share he's having issues."

"If he's having enough issues to get him over his torch for Finn, he'll have as many as _Time_ magazine," Quinn said bluntly.

"I know," said Mercedes with a sight. "I just wish that he'd talk to us about it, you know? He used to tell us everything."

"He's probably just waiting for Puck to be out of sight – didn't want to give him any _more_ ammo," Artie suggested.

Puck backed off, his hackles rising in something…indefinable. It was almost like…self-disgust. Was that really all these people thought of him? Slushies and dumpsters and piss balloons? That he'd use something so private about one of his teammates only to hurt them so that he would look better in front of the other jocks? He'd known about Hummel's thing for Finn for a while now, and he hadn't used it against him, had he? Okay, yeah, he'd screwed his best friend's girl – not one of his finer moments. But he was trying to do the right thing by it all, wasn't he? Couldn't anyone cut him a little slack?

Irritably, Puck gravitated back toward Finn and Rachel. His be—his _ex_ best friend, looked like his stomach hurt. Rachel was squeezing his hand supportively. _Finally, paydirt_, he thought as he heard Rachel say "You were just trying to do the right thing, Finn; you can't beat yourself up over his childish behavior."

"But it isn't childish, Rachel. I really screwed up. He _should_ be pissed at me! I just wish that he would _talk_ to me about it, but he won't even _look_ at me. I mean, god, he'd rather hang out with _Puck_ than talk to me. He _hates_ Puck." Finn clenched his fists. Puck stayed behind them, keeping carefully quiet. "I just…he's one of my best friends, Rachel. I wish that things could go back the way they were, before I screwed it all up."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself. Kurt is being incredibly insensitive," Rachel said supportively, but Finn didn't look like he believed her. "But…if you really want to talk to him, then why don't you just go home? He can't avoid you in the same house for long!"

"Kurt doesn't really stay at home that much anymore. I drove him out of it," Finn insisted.

Puck didn't even hear Rachel's exasperated reassurances. He had a new mission: find Kurt before anyone else did.

**888**

Puck found Kurt on top of the bleachers, watching the track team sprint toward imaginary victory. The smaller boy had calmed down, and was softly humming along to a song on his iPod. He looked very lost, almost forlorn, and Puck didn't make any moves to break the moment as the shield of brittle anger and icy distance that Kurt had surrounded himself with all day vanished, leaving behind a scared and trembling youth that Puck had tossed into a dumpster a time or five.

This version of Kurt was much easier to handle than the strange, new, angry!Kurt that Puck had _not_ had fun being introduced to earlier in the afternoon. He cheerily popped up onto the bleachers and sat down next to Kurt, sprawled out in a way that emphasized his muscles in the tight-fitting tank he was wearing. So, yeah, Puck was an arrogant asshole – one of his many charms; he knew he was a stud and so what if he got a bit of a thrill knowing that how much Kurt truly disliked him, it didn't stop the soprano's eyes from roving over his muscular form.

"Ew," Kurt pronounced irritably. "Don't you have someone else to annoy, dogface?"

"Nope," Puck sang out happily. "We've got this assignment to work on, and no one else is talking to me right now. That makes _you_ my new best friend!"

"I just threw up in my mouth a little," Kurt decreed, and made to stand up. Puck draped his legs across Kurt's lap, preventing the smaller boy from getting up. He sent an obnoxious look Kurt's way. "Get off of me," he demanded angrily, trying and failing to shove Puck's muscular appendages off of him.

"See, you're kind of interesting, Hummel," Puck announced, ignoring him. "Thought I had you and your flaming crush on Finn pegged down." Kurt's eyes narrowed like an angry snake's, signaling dangerous territory. Still somewhat intrigued by the flash of rage in the boy's eyes during his earlier meltdown, Puck played with fire. "But then you get all…interesting. And I figure, if you aren't gonna tell me what's going on between you two, then I can find out while we're hanging out together."

"You're an insufferable, boorish, drooling imbecile," Kurt ground out.

"Well, you _could_ just tell me what set you off, and ruin all my nice detective plans," Puck offered. Kurt didn't even bother responding. "Gee, that just ruins my day," he said with a shrug, grinning hugely. "See, dude – this is gonna be fun! We'll play around, I'll get something to do with my life, and you'll get a kickass number to kick Rachel in the teeth with. It's a win/win." He waggled his eyebrows enticingly, a look that many a girl had gone weak in the knees for.

"When I'm rich and famous I'm going to come back to this Podunk piece of redneck hell, and I'll find you, most likely sucking sewage or pushing carts at a supermarket, and I'm going to flash all of my money and prestige in your face just to rub it in before I pay an obscene amount of money to have your home steamrollered," Kurt said sweetly. "Does that sort of negate the whole 'buddy' thing you're trying to start up?"

Puck tipped his head back and laughed. Sometimes, Kurt was so…there wasn't a word he could find that he wanted to use, when he thought of the boy's revenge scenarios. "Still pissed at the world, I see."

"The world sucks," Kurt said eloquently.

"Well, I'll make you a deal," Puck said, sitting up. They eyed each other in a moment of seriousness. Puck had the odd sensation that there was something happening up here that neither of them were really prepared for. But Kurt was listening to him, and that was something he hadn't had in a long time, someone who was actually listening to him and not looking at him with those damn judging eyes… "You don't take all this rage out on _me_, and I won't mention that little incident two weeks ago."

"You wouldn't anyway," Kurt said flatly. "_You've_ got more to be embarrassed on that front than _I_ do."

"But you still don't want Finn to know anything about it, do you?" Puck asked shrewdly. When Kurt looked away, Puck knew that he had him. "See? I'm not a total idiot." He stood up, leaving Kurt on his own in the bleachers.

"Puck?" Kurt asked from behind him. Puck turned around. The other boy wasn't really looking at him; he was more surveying the world from behind eyes that Puck found he couldn't fathom and wanted to understand. If there was anything that Puck loved more than a good mystery, he hadn't found it yet. "If I can't be angry at you, who am I supposed to be angry at?"

"Next person who pisses you off," Puck advised. "Works for me."

"Be at my house tomorrow night at five so we can start working on our routine," Kurt ordered him regally. They shared an…almost conspiratorial smile as they each went their separate ways.

_Huh_, Puck thought.

**Present Time**

Okay, so, in retrospect, telling one confused and seriously pissed off teenage boy who looked like he was releasing a lifetime's worth of rage that had been skillfully repressed all in one go to basically go off on the next person who pissed him off wasn't one of Puck's smarter ideas. But, really, how was he supposed to know that Kurt would blow like Mt. St. Helens the next morning?

Puck got to school that morning in high spirits, and he smacked fists with a few of the other footballers before he saw the entire glee club lined up before school like a pack of dogs. _Shit_, he thought as they all looked up when Kurt's SUV pulled into the parking lot. _Shit!_ he thought again, for good measure. Kurt Hummel, fashionista extraordinaire of WMHS, had stepped out of his car in…blue jeans and a black T-shirt? Did he even _own_ clothes like that?

Mercedes actually looked faint as Kurt approached them. Even from here, Puck could see the irritation beginning to bubble under Kurt's surface when he approached them. Acting on a spur of the moment, Puck quickly got over there to see what was going to happen.

"Now what?" Kurt snapped.

"Kurt, we're very worried about your behavior," Mr. Schuester began firmly, stepping forward.

"Good god, this is an intervention!" Kurt burst out laughing at his friends as most of them had the grace to look down, ashamed. Kurt straightened up to stare at Rachel and Finn in derision. "So the two of you can't corner me in my room and you have to get all of _them_ behind you to sort out my _issues_?"

"Well, really, Kurt," Rachel said reproachfully, "you should just accept—"

"I swear, if you even finish that sentence—" Kurt began.

"Whoa, now, buddy," Puck said jovially, stepping forward. Kurt looked up at him in mild surprise as Puck swung a companionable arm around his shoulders, stopping him from making a threatening gesture. Puck jerked his head in the other direction, and Kurt sighed as the portly assistant principle came their way.

Mr. Ayers was a bit of a class joke – he'd once had a full football scholarship but he'd lost it for his wife because she didn't like muscular guys. He lost all his muscles doing track and field and was sent to be an assistant principle in some loser town in Ohio. Puck knew all of this because for her years, Mrs. Ayers had a mouth on her like a Hoover. Either way, Bob Ayers _hated_ his students with the same passion with which they hated him. "Much as I hate to break up this little scene—"

"You weren't breaking up anything," Kurt said at once. "The bell is about to ring. I'd like to go to class on time."

"Oh, but I beg to differ. You _were_ making a scene. And these things cannot be tolerated on our school campus." Behind him, the bell rang, and the man got quite the nasty grin on his face. "And there's no point hurrying _now_, as you're all late."

Okay, looking back on it, Puck's sure that he should have seen it coming. Maybe he _did_, and he just didn't want to stop it because, hey, it was awesome. But Kurt drew himself to his whole height, his eyebrows snapping together above stormy weather eyes and a magnificent sneer on his face as he looked at the pathetic principle who'd just made them late on purpose purely to get them in trouble. "You piece of _shit_!" Kurt uttered coldly, without a care in the world, and marched toward the school without a backward glance.

Even Puck was staring at him, dumbstruck, but when Ayers shouted "Hummel!" to his retreating back, the boy merely looked back long enough to shoot Puck an indescribable look as he flipped the teacher the bird. Finn was looking at Puck with a dark expression on his usually goofily happy continence.

Puck was also the first to cheer Kurt on. Which was why he was in detention. And why it was so _totally_ Kurt's fault.

So when Kurt passed him a note that read, _Good advice, dogface_, Puck wasn't too sure how to react. He'd thought that he had everything under control, but now, when Kurt was looking at him out of those eyes with an expression he'd only seen once before, he'd found his palm sweaty as he wrote back, _Your house tonight._

Their fingers brushed as they passed the note, and Puck felt as if he'd been burned by a live wire. Oh, yes, he liked this new and improved Kurt Hummel…perhaps more than he should…

**A/N:** Bwah ha ha! So, yeah, you aren't going to find out quite the story about Finn and Kurt yet, but there's some big storytelling next time around, which will set up the rest of the story from there. Once again, thank you all so much for your reviews and favorites and so on.

See you soon!


	3. 3 So Damn Beautiful

**A/N:** OMG! Thank you guys so much for the enthusiastic response to this story! I'm glad that you're liking it as much as I'm enjoying writing it! Don't worry; lots happens in this chapter. And I so totally didn't think I'd be writing this from Puck's perspective, but it seems to make the most sense that way, so I'll most likely keep writing it this way. So, here's the chapter where they meet in the house…oooooh!

Heh. But, actually – **author's warning** – this chapter contains a small homage to Ryan Murphy's other brilliant work of televised art, _Nip/Tuck_. It also has a brief reference to disturbing subject matter. It doesn't get too bad, but suicide is mentioned and I wanted to warn you guys (not that anyone is thinking of committing it). For those of you who have seen _Nip/Tuck_ and know the song that will be used in this chapter, you'll know what's coming.

So, with all of that out of the way, I now proudly present the next chapter!

Enjoy!

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

3. So Damn Beautiful

Lately, things in Puck's life have gotten pretty damn confusing. Most of this confusion comes from people. This is why he's never really gotten close to people, because they always wanted things from him and then they screwed him over. Witness his dad and his mom. So then he gets all buddy buddy with Finn Hudson, and it just sort of makes him pissed when Finn starts ditching all their time together to get with Quinn Fabray. And it should be the _other_ way around, because Puck's a stud, and she should be with _him_. And it should be _Finn_ who's pissed that _he_ can't hang with _Puck_.

Puck was more than aware that the logic leading to his one night stand with Quinn wasn't exactly _logical_, but it made sense in _his_ mind, so he was still a little confused and a little hurt (not that he would ever admit that to anyone) when he gets to the Hummel house that night and Finn gives him the cold shoulder after reluctantly letting him in.

But Puck doesn't want to dwell too much on that, so he instead turns his attention to more interesting things – like the house that he's in. For a mechanic, Burt Hummel must make a lot of money because it's a pretty damn nice house he's in. But behind all the nice shiny appliances and whitewashed walls, he can feel crackling tension. He's heard through the Rachel grapevine (because damn but that girl can't keep her mouth _shut_) that Finn was now sleeping on a futon in the office because Kurt point-blank refused to share a room with him ("Which is _so_ totally selfish because Finn is the star of glee club and if he isn't well-rested he won't be able to vocally keep up with me, so if anyone is sleeping on some miserable futon with hard springs it should be _Kurt_ because it's not like _he's_ going to get a solo any time soon—" "Bitch, Imma slap you real quick here," interjected Mercedes).

Burt isn't home, so Carole invites him in. She's a whole lot less cold to him than Finn, but she's still a little more reserved around him than she used to be. But she's practically half-raised Puck the way she raised Finn, so she still hugs him and offers him a cookie. Puck's glad that no one else is around to watch him accept it as she calls for Kurt.

The basement door opens and there's Kurt. Puck surprises himself by thinking that it's almost _good_ to see Kurt in something so…girly, because Kurt is wearing a black fashion-shirt and blue skinny pants, and it looks like he actually took time on his appearance before Puck got there. Slamming the door shut on _that_ line of thought, Puck nods at Kurt's cool greeting and follows him downstairs.

It's still pretty familiar from the last time he was down here. The look on Kurt's face is pretty familiar too – as if he just stepped in something smelly. The only difference is that Finn's stuff isn't on the sofa-bed that had been pushed off to one side.

**Three Weeks Ago**

Finn had all but begged Puck to help him move his stuff into Kurt's house. It had been one of the first times that they'd talked since sectionals, and Puck had tried to hide how eager he'd been to do it. Finn had seemed relieved about something, but he hadn't really talked about it. Instead, they made some small talk about basketball and glee and going up against Vocal Adrenaline at regionals. Puck managed to get Finn bitching about Jesse for a little while, which seemed to improve his friend's mood dramatically. They'd packed all of Finn's stuff into boxes and loaded it into Puck's beat-up truck and driven to Hummel's house.

The place was empty, and Puck had laughed at him when Finn told him that he was going to have to share a room with Kurt until Burt came up with a way to give him his own. "It's cool that he's going to, though," Puck pointed out.

"Yeah – Burt's a really cool dude," Finn said. "He's got this huge widescreen and we watched UFC last night. Watched Ramirez get his face pounded to jelly, like, up close."

When they went down the stairs, Puck paused. "Huh. Guess I woulda expected Hummel's room to be all pink and unicorns." The basement was actually pretty damn cool – all done over in white with solid metal exposed everywhere. It looked like it belonged in New York City. Except… "Dude. Is that—" Puck gestured toward Kurt's massive vanity, complete with every feminine bathroom product known to man.

"Yeah," Finn said shortly. He dropped his stuff down, and frowned when Puck burst out laughing. "Dude, he isn't…Kurt's okay, you know?"

"You really don't know, do you?" Puck asked, staring at Finn in shock. Though, he shouldn't _be_ shocked, he reminded himself; he was best friends with Captain Oblivious who thought that the hot tub conception story was actually for reals (even Puck had had a hard time believing Quinn when she told him that Finn had bought into the cover story that she'd told him – because, _seriously_?)

"Know what?" Finn asked, confused.

"Dude, Hummel's had, like, a huge, gay crush on you for _years_," Puck informed him. It really shouldn't have been as enjoyable as it was to watch that dawning look of realization and panic spread across Finn's face, but it was sort of like informing the clueless quarterback that yes, they did have a math test next period, and no, girls didn't like to be treated like porn stars in bed.

"What?" Finn asked, looking kind of staggered. Puck rolled his eyes skyward.

"Seriously, dude? _Everyone_ knows – his _dad_ knows, most likely! You really don't notice the way he looks at you or defends you whenever anyone says anything about you or well, you know, hangs all over you?"

"Finn?" And there was Kurt, coming down the stairs in his usual glamorous look, looking at Puck like he was something the cat had dragged in. Puck smirked – he liked the way that Kurt looked at him because there was always something new; Kurt never gave him the same look of loathing twice because he was always fiddling with it to impart ever more levels of disgust. It was kind of refreshing. "I thought that you were going to use Dad's truck to get your stuff here."

Well, that explained Finn's wanting Puck's help – even if he hadn't _known_ till Puck had told him, he'd still had an idea and he hadn't wanted Kurt's help moving himself down to the dungeon o' gay luv. Puck was almost inspired to laugh meanly, but Finn took care of that for him.

"I gotta go to the bathroom." The panicked footballer all but ran up the stairs and out of the basement, giving Kurt as wide a berth as if Kurt was a carrier of the plague. And for just an instant, Puck almost felt…sorry for Hummel, because the look on the kid's face was the same look on Puck's face when his dad had walked out on them. And it made him kind of pissed off, too – after telling Finn that the most his blockhead friend could think to do was something that thoughtlessly hurtful? And it was so _Finn_, too, to stomp all over someone without really thinking that he _had_ stomped all over someone. And it made Puck mad that even though Finn had done shit like that to Hummel numerous times over the years the gay kid had been crushing on him, Hummel _still_ looked at Finn like he was the answer to all his prayers and all Puck got was people looking at him like he was a piece of trash.

And so two words that Puck had never, ever thought would leave his mouth around Kurt Hummel just sort of danced out there without conscious though: "You okay?" He really wished that they had just stayed in there like good little unused words, because the _look_ that Hummel gave him was something that Puck wasn't prepared to deal with – anger, desperation, humiliation, fear, almost hopelessness.

"Go to hell, Puckerman," he said softly, but there was none of his usual sting in it.

"Why do you care about him so much?" Puck asked. He actually _wanted_ to know, too, because, really, what was it about that big clueless idiot that had everyone throwing themselves at him left right and center?

"Please go away." Kurt was trembling now, no doubt expecting a beating. And it made Puck kind of mad at himself, because in the past he maybe would have beat him up for looking like that, and suddenly Mercedes' words were popping in his head: _I don't think that you like him very much, either_. Puck sighed and stretched up, and when his shirt rode up he caught Kurt flicking his eyes in an unforgivable glance at his muscled stomach.

And, well, because he's a stud and also kind of an attention whore, and because really, Puck goes about this comforting thing all wrong, he figures that maybe he could make Kurt forget about Finn for a minute, and he'd have done something good for the day. So he looks at Kurt and waggles his eyebrows invitingly and says "You like what you see?" in a sexy sort of purr.

Okay, maybe Puck's had sex with one too many girls, because Kurt's looking at him with a look of horrified disgust and self-anger, and Puck's not really sure how to deal with this. It strikes him that Kurt's really _not_ a girl, no matter how much he kind of _is_ one some days, and he isn't sure what's going to happen next.

"You'd just love that, wouldn't you? For me to throw myself at you the way all of those bimbos at school do?" Kurt is shaking, he's so mad, and Puck figures that his mouth started this mess so he shuts the hell up. "Well, you can get over yourself really fast, Puck, because I'm _not_ interested."

"Why? Because I'm not _him_?" Puck asks. He's not sure when he got so pissed off, but, damn it, Puck's _never_ had anyone outright reject him like that, not even Quinn (and she was actually _with_ Finn as opposed to crushing on him like, apparently, the rest of the student body).

"No, Puck – because you're an arrogant, cruel, small-minded idiot. And you're also a manwhore," Kurt informed him, his lip doing that curling thing.

"Hey! I'm not a manwhore," Puck said. Well, he didn't have a really defensible position here, but for some reason that he couldn't even articulate, Kurt's words were cutting into him, especially with a cold and rejecting Finn somewhere upstairs _still_ getting Kurt's favor. Shit.

"Do you even want me to dignify that with a response?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow challengingly.

"It was your eyes lookin' at me, Hummel," Puck said, his voice going low and sexy, stepping forward. For the first time in what was probably years, Kurt didn't back away from him. Instead, he stepped forward.

"And it was _you_ noticing and talking about it, Puck," Kurt said. They were only inches away from each other, glaring. "Or are you just not used to not getting your way?" When Puck looked away, irritated at the force behind those cold, hazel eyes, Kurt tossed his head back and laughed elegantly. "Oh, Puck – isn't that just tragic?" And then Kurt was stepping into his space and _Puck_ was backing away. His head was spinning in confusion; when had this all gotten turned around and confusing?

"Because I'm the only one you've come on to in the past _year_ that's even worth your time, and you'll _never_ get me." And with that, his head held high, Kurt walked away, leaving the basement and a very confused, very angry, and unfairly aroused Puck to watch him go, his rounded ass doing obscenely right things in those seemingly skin-tight jeans.

**Present**

But things were different now. This was a different Kurt Hummel staring at him from across his basement, which was once again whitewashed and almost obsessively clean, with absolutely no traces that Finn had ever even existed down here.

"So," Puck began, because the silence was somehow not-awkward, and that was making Puck feel confused. "Guess we better pick a song."

"Guess so," Kurt said, looking away from him. It was almost a relief that Kurt wasn't looking at him with his piercing eyes anymore. "You guys actually did a good job doing that KISS number few weeks ago, and, well, I'm _me_, so I don't think the theatricality aspects of this assignment will be too hard," he continued, sounding cold and professional. His voice was back to being guarded and shielded like it always was, instead of warm and husky and impassioned like it'd been when he was losing control. Puck decided that husky-Kurt was much more interesting than ice-prince-Kurt.

"Yeah, sure," he said, moving to look around the room. "Can't even tell that Finn used to live in here," he remarked casually. _Bingo_. Kurt's back stiffened and his voice dropped dangerously.

"That was kind of the point. Now, about the assignment—"

"'Cuz he's _definitely_ not telling me why you're not talking to him, and there isn't anything in this room telling me. You're not keeping one of his shirts to sniff, are you? Because, that'd be creepy." Puck watched with interest as Kurt turned to face him, his face reddened and his mouth open to blast him. "You could just _tell_ me, you know, because otherwise I'll be bugging you about this." It was a totally reasonable request, Puck thought.

"As you've learned down here before, I hope you're used to disappointment," Kurt returned, and Puck felt sort of sucker-punched by Kurt's casual use of that memory just to throw him off-balance. "Now, I'd like you to look through these two CD's and find something that you can sing because these are the songs I have sheet music on hand for," Kurt continued, holding out two mix CD's with tracklists printed on them in obsessively neat handwriting. "We can sing one of them and see which of our voices needs more solo time in order to sound better."

"You're really in this thing to crush Rachel, aren't you?" Puck asked happily as he started ticking through song titles.

"Like I'd need your help making _her_ look bad," Kurt said waspishly.

"So, why are you even bothering asking me?" Puck asked, looking up. Kurt looked confused. "What I want to sing. I'm pretty sure that you're gonna end up choosing the song and dance, anyway."

"I guess I just figured you'd fight me on it," Kurt said after a moment.

"You know, I'm not really the guy that you all seem to think I am," Puck said softly.

"I don't know you at all, Puck," Kurt said. "You've thrown me in dumpsters for years, that doesn't exactly make me privy to your thought processes. If you have them."

"My brain works just as well as yours," Puck countered. "Now, see, Finn wouldn't have even known that you insulted him right there."

"Good for Finn," Kurt said dismissively. And for reasons that Puck refused to decipher, it felt _good_ having Kurt focus on _him_ instead of crumbling into a gooey mess at the mention of Finn's name.

"Why don't we not sing and play something more fun?" Puck asked, pushing his luck.

"Like what? Truth or dare?" Kurt asked, mocking him.

"Right – like _you_ could come up with a dare that _I_ couldn't handle," Puck said dismissively.

"I _so_ could," Kurt insisted.

"Are you questioning my badassness?" Puck asked. They seemed to be getting closer. Had he told his feet to move? Why was his voice dropping lower?

"And what if I was?" Kurt asked. His voice was getting all husky and low and shivery again…

"You come up with a dare for me, and I'll let you direct this whole thing," Puck countered.

"Deal," Kurt said flatly. Then he smirked. "Now stop stalling and pick a song, or are you just too afraid that I'll outsing you anyway?"

"What about 'So Damn Beautiful'?" Puck asked, picking the first title with a curse word in it at random.

"Done deal," Kurt said, plucking the CD from Puck's fingers and popping it into the player. As cold electronica filtered in through the bass-heavy speakers (_Nice system_, Puck thought appreciatively), he turned a look onto Kurt.

"Never figured you for music like this."

"Never figured you for 'Sweet Caroline' – would've thought you'd try to get Rachel in bed singing Buckcherry's 'Crazy Bitch,'" Kurt rejoined cuttingly as he handed him sheet music. "I'll take the first voice and chorus, you take the second verse, and then we'll duet the rest."

"I never slept with her," Puck said softly.

"Good," Kurt said, equally softly. And then the music kicked in, and Kurt was singing, his unearthly voice making Puck feel all sorts of things he wasn't used to feeling, and he realized that this song choice wasn't necessarily a good one.

**Kurt:** _What do you think of me?_

_Are you quite proud of this make-believe_

_Curtain, that hangs around everything_

_You can admire in that girl—_

_She's so damn beautiful_

.

_You will see me rise again_

_You will see me fly again_

_You're so wonderful_

_I will be there by your side_

_._

_I see before the race you've run_

_And jump ahead too far_

_You're so damn beautiful_

**Puck:** _What do you see in me?_

_Are you quite proud of this_

_Make-believe feeling_

_That hangs around everything_

_That you once admired in that girl?_

_You're so damn beautiful_

_._

_I will see you rise again_

_I will see you fly again_

_You're so wonderful_

_I will be there by your side_

_You're so wonderful_

_I will be there by your side_

**Together:** _I see before the race you've run_

_And jump ahead too far_

_You're so damn beautiful_

_I see before the race you've run_

_And jump ahead too far_

_You're so damn beautiful_

_._

_What do you think of me?_

_Are you quite proud of this make-believe_

_Curtain that hangs around everything_

_You can admire in that girl_

_She's so damn beautiful!_

By the time the song was over, they were both flushed, and Puck felt _something_ coursing through his veins like acid. He wasn't sure if he loved the song or he hated it, but he hated hated _hated_ the pain going through Kurt's eyes as they both understood the lyrics and the way that they talked about Finn.

"I'm sorry," Puck said softly.

"Don't be. You have a beautiful voice. We should be able to work really well together," Kurt said, trying desperately to regain his composure.

"That song really means something to you," Puck guessed.

"Yeah." Kurt sighed. "Have you ever seen _Nip/Tuck_?"

"Um. No," Puck said. Kurt shot him a look, but he was almost smiling.

"It's a show about plastic surgeons. It's pretty realistic, actually. Anyway, there was this girl who was fat and wanted to get plastic surgery to look good for her high school reunion, to see…to see if the prom king would actually _look_ at her…" Kurt wasn't meeting his eyes, and Puck wanted to go upstairs and bash Finn's face in so badly that the feeling took him by surprise.

"What happened to her?" Puck asked. Kurt looked up with tears threatening.

"The doctors wouldn't give her the surgery because she was in an unsound mental state when she made the request. She blew her brains out while this song played." He said it so coldly and factually, but his body was trembling, and Puck did _not_ like that turn in the conversation or how affected by it they both were, so he stepped closer. They were so close…Puck reached out a hand toward Kurt's trembling face…

"What's going on down here?" said a loud, _not_ happy voice, and Kurt and Puck both leapt apart as if they'd been burned. Standing not ten feet from them was a large, angry looking mechanic holding a really heavy-looking wrench, and damn if Puck's knees weren't shaking worse than that time that Mrs. Johnson's marine husband came home early one day and he'd had to jump out the window where his clothes were sitting by the pool just to not get shot. Mr. Hummel was looking at him like he was going to kill him. Puck belatedly remembered Mercedes joking about how fiercely overprotective Burt Hummel was toward his fragile son.

"We were practicing for glee club. In fact, we'd just finished for the night. Puck was about to leave," Kurt said after a moment, his voice regaining its cold composure.

"Right," Puck said.

"Puck…Noah Puckerman? The one that pissed Finn off so bad?" And damn it if Finn suddenly didn't have an overprotective dad, too, and Puck began calculating his chances of darting around the wrench before it cracked his skull open.

"Yes, dad. But, seriously, it's okay," Kurt said calmingly. "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, Puck." He pushed Puck toward the door. Burt Hummel gave him one last terror-inducing glance before stepping to the side. "And don't forget our agreement," Kurt said. Puck glanced back despite himself and was surprised to see Kurt giving him a mischievous smile before the basement door closed and he and his dad began to talk.

His knees weak, Puck staggered out to his truck. What the _hell_ was he getting himself into?

**Song Note: The song Kurt and Puck sang to in this chapter is called "So Damn Beautiful", originally performed by Poloroid. The part about it being in **_**Nip/Tuck**_** is completely true (it's on the soundtrack); I love that show so much I couldn't help tossing this part in there. For those who'd like to see that (amazing) episode, it's titled Nanette Babcock and is the third episode of the first season, I believe (it could be the second episode).**

**A/N:** Intense! I just really wanted to keep saying thank you for all of the warm responses and the staggering number of reviews. Gleeks united! Thanks so much, and I'll see you next chapter – where the title of the story is explained. Biddy bum! See you soon!


	4. 4 Kurt's Gamble

**A/N:** Seriously, I already wrote a chapter today! What is wrong with me? Oh, right. It's _Glee_. _Glee_ = obsession! So, this is the big one and I couldn't wait to write it so you know what? I wrote it! This might not get posted till like 2 this morning, but still, I wrote it, so there. ;)

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

4. Kurt's Gamble

(a.k.a. LoveGame)

After long and hard thoughts and some really weird dreams (more than one of which involved Burt Hummel and his big-ass wrench dripping with Puck's brain fluid), Puck came to the conclusion that it might be a really good idea if he quit this whole partnering with Kurt thing while he still could. After waking up from a vivid recollection of singing that totally creepy song Puck had gone on the web and looked up that episode of _Nip/Tuck_ that Kurt had been talking about, which had only led to a dream involving finding Kurt in the basement, dead, with whole wallpapers of Finn grinning down at him from the walls.

Needless to say, it wasn't a restful night.

And Puck just wasn't one for all of this deep-thinking, introspective crap! Next thing you knew, he'd be in that weirdo Miss Pillsbury's office asking for her helpfully _unhelpful_ brochures. _Bullshit on _that_!_ But then again, backing out of working with Kurt would be like backing out of a challenge, and Puck _never_ backed out of a challenge (including that one time when he jumped off of a bridge because his friends had dared him to. What? Puck was a badass. (It was at this point that his mom had raised her hands to the heavens and began cursing in Hebrew)).

So Puck was just really confused, and really unsure what to do about his current problem.

"Dude – what'd you do to get But so pissed off last night?" Finn asked, breaking into his thoughts.

"I didn't do anything," Puck said truthfully. "Dude just looked like he was gonna come after me with a wrench!"

"He might," said Finn, chewing on his lip. "I don't _ever_ try to piss Burt off; he's scary as hell when he's angry."

And Finn was another thing that had Puck all confused. Because these random times when he and Finn would talk just like old times were really nice, because Puck missed his best friend more than he'd like to admit sometimes. But now he also kind of wanted to punch that goofy grin right off Finn's face thinking about the look on Kurt's face when he'd been singing last night.

Thinking about Kurt and anything to do with him was just making Puck's head hurt. So Puck was inclined to lay the blame entirely on Kurt and singing that stupid head-spinning song last night when he turned to Finn and asked: "Dude, do you like, _blame_ me telling you that…stuff about Kurt for you and him not being friends anymore?"

And since _when_ had he sounded so bothered about him and Finn not being friends anymore? Stupid Hummel. Stupid song.

"What? No!" Finn said, surprised. Then he looked almost eager. "Why? Did he talk to you about me at all last night?" And Puck felt a pang of almost…_anger_, thinking about how crush-like Finn sounded, and he had to actually remind himself that Finn just wants his friend back and nothing else.

"No," Puck said flatly, and he took a mean amount of pleasure watching Finn's face fall. But the bigger and better part of himself felt bad about it, so he relented. "But it's pretty clear that he isn't as pissed about it as he is just hurt. What'd you _do_?"

"Something really, _really_ stupid. And I hurt his feelings. And I feel like a total asshole, but he won't even talk to me long enough to let me apologize." Finn ran a hand through his hair, his eyes troubled. "And Rachel isn't really helping because she just wants to take my side when even _I_ know that what I did was pretty bad, and I don't know a lot, Puck."

Not even knowing what to say to that, Puck just laid a hand on Finn's shoulder. For just a moment it was a nice, we're friends again sort of thing. But then Rachel and Mercedes came towards them, and he and Finn stepped apart. And while it was kind of shitty that Finn can't talk to him in front of the other gleeks, for that one minute or so it was like he and Finn were back on track. So Puck chose to ignore the poisonous looks the girls shot him as they started talking to Finn about the glee assignment.

When Quinn stepped into the hall, she boldly met people's eyes, and there were few who dared to say anything to her. While she and Mercedes were still best friends, Quinn had chosen to move back in with her mother after all that drama, and the two of them were bonding over helping Quinn lose her pregnancy fat. Quinn looked good, but in a different way – she was beautiful now than the icily pretty head cheerleader Quinn Fabray had never been. As she walked down the hallway, Quinn spared him a glance that wasn't wholly unsympathetic. He nodded hello to her, and she nodded back as she approached them all.

"Hey, guys – have any of you seen Kurt today?" she asked. When they all shook their heads (even Finn), she sighed. "He was supposed to come over last night and help me with something, and he never showed."

"Well, Kurt's been going through a lot lately, Quinn," Mercedes said consolingly. "I'm sure he'll explain when he sees you."

"Kurt was working on his glee thing with Puck last night," Finn announced. Puck could've killed him, really, but the thing was that Finn was shooting him encouraging glances and Puck knew that in his own, idiotic way Finn was trying to include him in the conversation.

"Yeah, but we wrapped up pretty quick after detention," Puck said when everyone turned their censuring stares on him. "I'm sure that he got caught up with the music and stuff." Quinn sighed and didn't say anything. Mercedes seemed to fight with herself before she turned to speak to him.

"How was he?" she asked. It was actually kind of nice, in a Hallmark card sort of way, how much Kurt's friends cared about him.

"Yeah, Puckerman – how's your _boyfriend_?" sneered Karofsky as he passed by. "Singin' his little homo heart out? He got you two matching clothes yet?"

Puck breathed hard, but he wouldn't rise to that hockey playing idiot's bait – if he showed how much the moron's words bothered him, he'd lose even more respect from the rest of the school, and he has little enough respect as it is. So instead he smirked and said, "Dude, was that _still_ the only insult you could come up with all day today?"

"You can't expect too much from a kid whose parents are also siblings," Kurt said from behind them, making the entire hallway freeze in shock. It was a moment that would stay in Puck's mind forever. Kurt Hummel was standing there, the product of a fierce new makeover: his hair was cut short and tufted into stylish spikes with streaks of dark red dye running through it; his eyes had black makeup on them, making them pop, but for once that was the only makeup he wore; he was wearing a silky black button-up with a thin white tie and…leather pants with heeled boots. Kurt looked _good_.

"Besides," the smaller boy continued coldly, "he's probably still upset about hearing his dad ask his mom to shave her chest hair before they went at it like horny West Virginians." Everyone gasped as the insult hit home with blistering force. "Don't screw with my friends, Karofsky."

"You are _dead_, Hummel," Karofsky snarled.

"Then how are you possibly going to hurt me?" Kurt asked quietly, stepping forward without a hint of fear. He surged forward suddenly and shoved Karofsky into the lockers, and the jock stared, stunned. The entire watching crowd was abuzz. "Get _out_," Kurt ordered regally, pointing towards the exit. Puck, Mercedes, Quinn, Rachel and Finn all moved in behind him. Karofsky turned tail and fled like the coward he was. "Huh – _idiot_," remarked Kurt calmly.

"Now _that_ was a good insult!" Rachel said brightly. Puck caught Kurt's eye and they both rolled their eyes skyward at the same time. Mercedes was looking at Puck with an expression that Puck didn't much care for.

"Wow, Kurt, that was really—" Finn began enthusiastically, but Kurt walked straight past him and instead looked at Quinn.

"Quinn, I believe I owe you a sincere apology for last night," he said.

"Oh, god, Kurt, what you just did was apology enough!" said the blonde with a laugh. They linked arms and continued down the hall. Mercedes gave Finn a sympathetic pat on the arm at the crushed look on his face from Kurt's dismissal. She shot Puck another unreadable look as she headed after her friends. Puck told himself furiously that he was _not_ watching Kurt's legs move in the tight leather as he headed down the hall, leaving Rachel to comfort Finn as the student body began buzzing with juicy new gossip.

Jacob Ben-Israel watched the altercation with unadulterated greedy excitement on his face as he zipped off toward the school's newspaper room.

**888**

The day had dragged on, and Puck was uncomfortable with the amount of looks he was getting. He was only feeling more and more uncomfortable every time he saw the new and improved Kurt and those damn leather pants, and by the time glee club rolled around Puck was really considering skipping. But Mr. Schuester had grabbed him before he could run and thanked him for accepting Kurt's blowup yesterday with such good grace, and Puck had known that he wasn't going to bitch out of this. He was a badass. There was nothing that kid could throw at him that he couldn't handle.

They ran into Rachel and Finn whisper-yelling at each other near the bathrooms.

"I don't understand why you're being so obtuse about this, Finn," Rachel snapped. "Just give him space – that's what _I_ would want you to do."

"But he doesn't _want_ us to treat him like a girl; that's what he was just yelling about – and what does geometry have to do with this?" Finn replied.

That managed to stop Rachel for a moment, but eventually her pure stubborn determination to have the last word won out. "Finn, I understand why you're so upset, and I'm trying very hard to understand why you're feeling so guilty. But it isn't fair to _me_ that every time you and I have time alone that you bring Kurt with you, even if you're just talking about him."

"Hey, guys!" Mr. Schuester said loudly as he and Puck stepped closer, pretending (badly) that they hadn't heard the couple's fight. "Have you been helping each other with your duet assignment?"

"Of course, Mr. Schuester," Rachel said, her enthusiasm for glee managing to win out over her bad mood. Puck had to give it to him; no matter how deep of a bitchfest Rachel was sinking into Mr. Schue always managed to pull her out of it with music. But the teacher gave him a loaded look as they kept walking toward the music room, and Puck sighed as he fell back beside Finn.

"So, I guess you haven't really had much progress with Kurt today," he opened up bluntly. Finn looked almost guiltily up at Rachel.

"No – I actually tried to corner him in the bathroom and he told me that if I didn't stop trying to talk to him he'd stick his finger down his throat and hurl on my shoes," Finn said, red-faced. Puck gave him a disbelieving look. "I don't like puke, okay?"

"Dude – Hummel cares too much about how he looks at school to mess it up on purpose like that," Puck pointed out.

"Oh…" Finn looked so lost and small that Puck rolled his eyes and refrained from pointing out, yet again, that he was a naïve gullible child hiding in the body of a 16 year old and instead gave him a friendly shoulder nudge. Finn looked as if he'd been struck by a stroke of brilliance. "Puck, you're working with Kurt on this assignment!"

"Um…_yeah_. Thought we covered that a couple days ago," Puck said, rolling his eyes as vigorously as the muscles would allow.

"Then _you_ can talk to him, and get him to forgive me!" Finn said, continuing on. "Because he won't talk to me, and Rachel says that if I keep trying that she's going to stop letting me give her hickeys, and I _like_ giving Rachel hickies—"

"I'm about to like giving you an undercut," Puck threatened, and Finn laid off the word vomit for a moment.

"But, seriously, Puck, could you talk to him? Please?" And, okay, if Mr. Schuester had the _most_ effective puppy dog eyes in the world, Finn had the _second_ most, and Puck really did want to make his friend happy again, and figure more out about Kurt…

"Okay. But I'm not makin' any promises that he's going to want to talk to you again; I'm just sayin' I'll _talk_ to him about it – got it?"

"Sure, sure," Finn said jovially, and it was almost painful how completely he trusted Puck to make it all better. But then, it had always been like that – Finn broke it, Puck fixed it, end of story. But when Puck broke it, it took a hell of a long time to fix it. Before Puck could sink into more morose thoughts, he realized that there were heavy bass and loud noises coming from the choir room.

"The hell?" he asked. Mr. Schuester and Rachel were standing outside the open door, frozen to the spot. Rachel looked both thoughtful and threatened, something Puck was sure that only she could pull off, while Mr. Schue just looked like he was about to pass out from shock. He and Finn eagerly joined them and looked into the music room…and froze, transfixed.

Kurt was standing in the middle, as if holding court, singing, his voice deeper and huskier than it usually sounded (Puck remembered hearing him pulling this trick off when the Cheerios had busted out with "4 Minutes" that one time at the pep rally). He'd abandoned his shirt-and-tie for a black tank top and elbow length blood-red opera gloves with the fingers cut out. The Cheerios (Santana and Brittany) were poised behind him to dance, while Mercedes and Quinn were off to the sides, singing and dancing. Mike and Matt were sitting in their chairs, enthralled, as the music kicked in. Then Kurt opened his mouth and Puck forgot about anything and everything else.

_Let's have some fun, this beat is sick_

_I wanna take a ride on your disco stick_

_Let's have some fun, this beat is sick_

_I wanna take a ride on your disco stick_

As the heavy bass kicked in, Kurt began to move, slowly at first, like a serpent, like…pure sex, that's what he looked like, and his voice was getting to sound like he was having a musical orgasm while he sang a song that stank of sex. Puck's jaw went slack. There may have been drool.

_I wanna kiss you_

_But if I do then I might miss you, babe_

_It's complicated and stupid_

_Got my ass squeezed by sexy Cupid_

_Guess he wants to play_

_A love game, a love game_

As Mercedes and Quinn joined in, beckoning to Matt and Mike to join them, Santana and Brittany began a complicated dance so sexual it was like a mating ritual, their lips almost touching and then not…again and again…Was Finn moaning behind him?

_Hold me and love me_

_I just wanna touch you for a minute_

_Baby, three seconds is enough_

_For my heart to quit it_

_._

_Let's have some fun, this beat is sick_

_I wanna take a ride on your disco stick_

_Don't think too much, just bust that dick_

_I wanna take a ride on your disco stick_

_._

_Let's play a love game, play a love game_

_Do you want love or you want fame?_

_Are you in the game?_

_Dans le love game_—

The entire room burst out in groans of disappointment and dismay (at least, that's what Puck was sure Mr. Schue _wanted_ to think) as the teacher angrily shut the music off. Kurt shot him a look as the others had the decency to look ashamed. Puck had to admire the way that Kurt stood his ground and waited for the browbeating.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Mr. Schuester asked, sounding pretty damn pissed. And he didn't curse much. Puck, Finn and Rachel sidled into the room as the others resumed their seats. Quinn and Mercedes were both giggling to each other as Kurt shrugged lackadaisically.

"Practicing showmanship," he offered.

"Practicing for an orgy," Puck muttered. Mr. Schuester shot him a poisonous look as the rest of the club began to laugh.

"Kurt, I can accept the fact that you are clearly going through something, and if you'd like to talk, you know where to find me. But you need to know that the way that you're expressing your anger is highly inappropriate—"

"Oh, so this is about me singing a song about sex?" Kurt asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes," Mr. Schuester agreed, eager to have Kurt see his way. Even Puck could see that Kurt was setting him up.

"But, _you_ can perform 'Bust a Move' in front of us, 'I Wanna Sex You Up' with Finn and Puck in a public forum and then let all the girls sing 'Bad Romance,' but the minute the gay kid sings a provocative song we have high moral standings?" Kurt asked lightly, but his eyes were beginning to do that burning thing, and his hands were clenched.

"Kurt, this has _nothing_ to do with your being gay," Mr. Schuester said angrily, his eyes burning themselves. "There's a difference between singing a song with sexually-based lyrics while performing and having those lyrics playing while having their meaning basically acted out behind you!"

"Oh, bull_shit_," snapped Kurt. "And I know you're the all-inclusive Mr. Schuester, but, honestly, if that had been Rachel and Finn dancing in the background and Santana singing the lead, would you have been so offended you cut the music off?"

Mr. Schuester apparently found the ground in front of him very interesting. Puck almost felt kinda bad for the guy, but he also realized that Kurt kind of had a point.

"Is there anything else you'd like to express, Kurt?" Mr. Schuester asked, his voice sounding somewhat small.

"Yes, actually, there is," Kurt said, nodding politely to Mr. Schuester, his point made. "Puck." Puck started, looking up. Kurt was looking at him with an almost predatory gleam in his eyes. It made Puck feel distinctly nervous. It was the same eyes that _he_ usually gave to underlings. The role reversal wasn't really appreciated. "I've decided to accept your challenge."

"My challenge?" Puck said, pretending confusion. _Oh, god, please make it be stupid, please make it be stupid_…

God was on vacation somewhere, laughing His shiny ass off, apparently. "Yes, Puck, your challenge that were I to come up with an effective dare for you that you would give me artistic control over our project," Kurt reminded him in an almost kind voice, the same voice that people used with Finn to explain to him that no, sucking on a raw lemon was _not_ the same as drinking lemonade.

"Oh," Puck said intelligently. Kurt rolled his eyes. Annoyed with himself – _I _am_ a badass, damn it_ – Puck sat up. "Hit me with your best shot."

"Alright." Kurt smiled benignly at him. Puck did not trust the look. "I _bet_ you that you cannot go without sex for the entire time that you and I are working together." The club began to whisper to themselves as they watched the mini-drama play out. Puck sneered and opened his mouth; who the hell did Hummel think he was dealing with? "That would mean," Kurt continued, stopping his comeback, "absolutely no touching with anyone of any kind, no intercourse, no dry sex, no masturbation, no sexting, no flirting. You, Noah Puckerman, manwhore of William McKinley High School – I _bet_ you that you wouldn't even last a week."

_Oh. Well, shit_. The task seemed truly daunting. But maybe it was his general irritation at _only_ being regarded as a raging manslut by the entire glee club that had Puck raising his head and saying, "You said _bet_. What are the winnings?" More whispers erupted around them, and Kurt grinned.

"The terms are fairly simple: If _I_ win, not only do I get control over our project, but I also get your car – not forever," he said quickly, as Puck opened his mouth in disbelief. "For two solid weeks, I get to drive your car while you are forced to walk everywhere – no accepting rides from friends. I mean, you walk to school and watch as I park my comfortable and fashionably clad ass in _your_ parking space with _your_ car, just to rub it in a little." Where the hell was this sadistic streak _coming_ from? Does getting tossed in a dumpster for so long _really_ make you this angry? Puck wondered.

Okay – punishment was pretty intense. But there was something lurking in Kurt's eyes that had Puck leaning forward despite himself. The room went very still as he said softly, "And what about if _I_ win?"

"If _you_ win," Kurt said, smiling one of the most sultry, seductive smiles that Puck had _ever_ seen, and damn if it wasn't going straight to his groin, _damn_ but Kurt must be taking hints from Santana… "If _you_ win, then _I_ will give you the thing that you've just been obsessing about ever since the Hudsons moved into my house," Kurt said.

_No. There's no friggin' way…_ "English, Hummel?" he barked, his voice hoarse and his nerves stretched to the breaking point.

"I'll allow you to have sex with me," Kurt said calmly, his voice unshaking, his gaze sure. There were surely whispers and shouts from behind him, but all he heard was the pounding of his heart and the sweat trickling down his face. _Oh, _god_, oh god_…

"And what makes you think—" Puck thought he might at least try to save a little face. But that was before Kurt calmly sat in his lap and ground that tight little ass down on Puck's aching erection as he leaned in and licked lightly at Puck's sensitive ear.

"Puck," Kurt whispered in his ear, and _god_ he made Puck sound like fu— "I'll let you screw my _brains_ out…" Puck made a strangled sort of noise he knew he'd never be able to reproduce as he carefully, shakily moved Kurt off of him. And he knew it _had_ to be his dick more than his brain that was talking when he held out his hand and said:

"You've got a deal, baby."

Kurt shook his hand, a look of mock seriousness overtaking his features, and they shook firmly. It was somehow comforting to know that Kurt's hand was sweating as much as Puck's. When they let go, the noise came rushing back into Puck's ears, like the damage was already done and irreversible so might as well deal with the fallout.

Mr. Schuester had his face buried in his hands, totally lost as to what to do. Rachel was awkwardly trying to comfort him. Finn was yelling at Kurt, who was completely ignoring him as he sat between Quinn and Mercedes, who were both trying to talk him out of what he'd just done. Mike and Matt were muttering to each other in the background while Artie and Tina went to back Finn up. Santana was yelling truly hateful homophobic slurs at him while Brittany pulled out an "I Can Read" book and began pronouncing the days of the week to herself, seeming worried when she tried to point out to a furious Santana that all of the days ended in 'day' so how was she supposed to sort them out?

It wasn't the first time since all of this happened that Puck knew he was getting into something that he'd never dealt with before and really didn't have any kind of clue how he was going to deal with it. But something about the smoldering intensity in Kurt's eyes when he looked at Puck told him that this ride was going to be worth the price of admission.

"Dismissed, guys," Mr. Schuester said, sounding somewhat defeated. Kurt looked like was ready to apologize or something, but then his face hardened and he led the club outside, pointedly ignoring Rachel's angry looks in his direction. Finn had given up on Kurt listening to him, and he instead shot Puck a furious look that had Puck wondering if he'd just burned all the progress he'd made with his friend that morning. Quinn stopped by him, as if she were about to say something but thought better of it. Mercedes, Artie, and Tina all walked past him as if he didn't exist. Mike and Matt looked at him awkwardly – well, he'd sort of just outed himself as bisexual to the club, hadn't he? – as they left, until there was just Mr. Schuester.

"He's not mad at you, Mr. S," Puck offered as he stood up. "He's not even really mad at Finn, I don't think."

"Puck…don't you dare hurt him," Mr. Schuester said softly. He looked up and pinned Puck with the most piercing gaze, and it had Puck frozen to the spot. "Whatever's going on between you two, and whatever he's going through…he needs support. And I _know_ that there's a good guy buried in there, Puck, I've seen it more than you think I have. Just…_please_. Do the right thing here." He patted Puck's shoulder supportively as he headed out the door, leaving Puck with his thoughts.

It startled him when he realized that Kurt had hung back. Their eyes locked across the room. "I meant what I said," Kurt said seriously. "I don't ever make promises that I don't keep. If you do this, if you deny something that's basically part of your personality, just because you want _me_, that means something, Puck."

"My name is Noah." He didn't know why he said it. But, for reasons known only to god and man, he wanted Kurt to say his name – no, screw that. He wanted Kurt to say his name the same way that Kurt said _Finn's_ name.

Maybe Kurt got that, a little, because he smiled softly as he said, "Well, then, you might want to jerk off tonight – because your contest starts tomorrow morning. Happy blue balls…_Noah_." He said Puck's name like a prayer, and Puck almost tripped over the piano stool on his way out of the choir room. Even though he was looking at being a monk for the next, what, twenty days? Even with all of that horror looming ahead of him, Puck had a grin on his face as he shut the door closed to the glee room behind him.

**Song in this chapter was "LoveGame" by Lady Gaga off her first album "The Fame." Duh. ;)**

**A/N:** And so, the fun begins! What's going to happen? Aaaah! Hee hee. Anywhoo, I really did want to respond to some things in the reviews – no, Finn is not a bad guy. He did something very stupid but also very _Finn_, and sometimes Finn screws up in the weirdest ways, so sometimes he has to pay for it in the weirdest ways. But that's Finn. There are two characters I need to address real quick:

**Rachel:** It's not that I don't like Rachel, it's that she has episodes where I genuinely admire and empathize with her and episodes where I genuinely want to walk up to her and say "Hey, guess what? Your personality makes me want to blech!" while I vomit enthusiastically all over her shoes. So I'm trying to balance the two: on the one hand, it genuinely _isn't_ fair of Finn to "bring Kurt" on their dates. On the other, she _always_ takes Finn's side in everything, and what Finn did (which _will_ be revealed later) was kind of bad, so she's not really being as nice as she thinks she is. But don't worry – this fic isn't some kind of Rachel bashing spree.

**Quinn** – I _love_ Quinn. I think she's an incredibly well-developed character. At first I just thought she was a less hardcore Terri Schuester, but then I realized that Quinn is totally empathetic – she was incredibly unhappy with her life, and then after getting pregnant from the worst mistake in her life she chose to have the baby with the guy she loved and who she knew would be a good father, even if she was going to give the baby up. Sure, at times she acted like a bitch, but I was sold on my empathy for her as soon as she sang "You Keep Me Hanging On." I love her, and she's going to figure prominently in this story because she's Quinn, and she deserves it.

Quinn's best song: "It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World"

Quinn's best line ever (From "The Power of Madonna"):

**Rachel:** Can I get some advice from you guys?

**Quinn [deadpanned]:** Yes, you _should_ move to Israel.

HA!

So, see you next time (and I'm totally on a _Glee_ spree right now, so next time might even be later today/tonight. You never know! Once again, thanks so much to all my reviewers. Good night and happy reading!


	5. 5 Leave Me Alone I'm Lonely

**A/N:** And so, here I am, writing _another_ chapter. Big shock. So I'm just going to warn you that this doesn't feature Kurt at all, but it's an important chapter and it's a stepping stone to the next set which will be all important and stuff. So there! Anyway, thanks to all my reviewers and readers and I hope you're enjoying the story so far!

Without taking up more of your time:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

5. Leave Me Alone (I'm Lonely)

It had been one hell of a week, and Puck was more than looking forward to spending the weekend alone. Since his Thursday night spank session, Puck hadn't gotten off in two days, and it was starting to make him cranky. He briefly considered cheating, but he didn't for two reasons; firstly, whatever was going on between him and Kurt, he was determined to beat this thing for reasons he couldn't fully articulate, and secondly, he was sure that somehow Kurt would find out about it and that would be the end of _that_. So when Puck woke up on Saturday morning with a _raging_ case of morning wood, he cursed viciously and staggered into a cold shower.

There were no weekend glee practices, thank god, and football season was long over. So after sleeping in till nearly noon, Puck collapsed back in bed, ignored his mom's sigh at the state of his bedroom (it was a nice family ritual that they shared, Puck thought) and began blowing the hell out of aliens on Halo II. Some people meditated. Puck engaged in gratuitous violence. And it was working like a charm, as well; for more than an hour Puck didn't think about his confusing sexual thoughts toward a dude. He didn't think about music or singing or people at school. He was just getting to that sort of Nirvana state where he wasn't even thinking about _anything_ but spending his hitpoints on upgrading to the advanced explosives package when the doorbell rang and his mother screeched in that special way she had: "NOAH! THE DOOR! IT'S FOR YOU!"

_Shit_. "Really?" Puck asked the ceiling. When the peeling plaster neglected to answer him, he tossed down the remote and stumbled down the stairs.

"You're still not dressed?" his mother asked, frowning. "Slob!"

"Yeah, yeah," Puck muttered, pulled open the door, and froze. Standing on his porch was the last person that Puck had expected to see – Finn Hudson. Wearing a sheepish expression, a white undershirt that had seen better days and basketball shorts, Finn looked just the way he always had when they'd had a goofing off day scheduled. Puck was at a loss for words.

"Um, hey, dude," Finn said. He looked down awkwardly. Considering he was like a foot taller than everyone meant that he was just looking right at Puck now, but it was just so _Finn_ that Puck sighed and pulled the door open further, gesturing for Finn to come in. "Thanks," Finn said, ducking into the doorway.

"Finn Hudson!" Puck's mom yelled excitedly. "Are you staying for our movie tonight?" Finn shot Puck a panicked look; Puck shook his head flatly. For Jewish movie night this week they'd be watching _The Boy in the Striped Pajamas_, likely one of the more depressing Holocaust movies he'd seen.

"Gee, sorry, Mrs. Puckerman, but I've gotta be home tonight," Finn said, smiling at her. She always melted for Finn's smiles…and then shot Puck a look. Puck recognized the look. He groaned internally as she opened her mouth right on cue.

"So, Finn, I hear that _you've_ begun dating a nice _Jewish_ girl," she noted, glaring at Puck accusingly.

"Is something burning?" Puck asked, glancing toward the kitchen.

"My matzo balls!" she shrieked, and as she darted toward the kitchen, Puck grabbed Finn and they escaped up the stairs toward his bedroom. "Noah!" she screeched, but Puck was already closing the door to his room with a loud snap. Out of habit, he and Finn smacked a high five as Finn sprawled in the bean bag chair in the corner while Puck resumed his flopped-out position on the bed.

"Playin' Halo?" Finn asked after a moment of awkward silence.

"Wanna go two player?" Puck returned.

"Sure."

"Grab a controller."

And that was it, really, for almost half an hour – just two guys, laughing, blowing shit up on the TV, laughing when one cuts a fart, chowing on stale chips and laughing about some stupid, meaningless stuff that happened at football practice the other day. And it's nice, and normal, and sentimental, and all that crap that Puck just doesn't like to deal with. But after a while they've completed the level, and Finn got all quiet, and Puck just _knew_ that they were about to start talking, and he didn't want to talk. Whole point of this stress free day was to _not_ think about stressful stuff. But Finn was apparently not picking up on his telepathic signals to not look at him with that serious expression on his face.

"Dude, what's going on with you and Kurt?" Finn asked, a thoughtful expression sitting oddly on his usual stress-free countenance.

"Why, you jealous?" Puck asked. The snark was automatic, and Finn backpedaled quickly.

"No, man – I'm not…like that…didn't know that _you_ were," Finn said quickly, almost resentfully, and Puck groaned and flopped back irritably on his bed. He found himself once more searching for the meaning of life in the cracks in his ceiling.

"I'm _not_," Puck said after a minute. "It's not like I go down the street cruising for dudes. It's just…_Kurt_. He gets under my skin. I don't really know how else to say it. But, really – it's weird. I like girls. Like, _really_ like girls. But I look at Kurt and…" Puck trailed off awkwardly. To his surprise, Finn wasn't freaking out, just staring at him.

"Then, maybe you shouldn't go after him," Finn said slowly. Puck cocked an eyebrow, the way he always did when he was too lazy to actually ask what Finn meant. "It's just…if you aren't sure, you know, what you're feeling, and you don't know what you want to happen with Kurt, then you shouldn't let him think that there's more going on than there is. He'd just get hurt."

"What _is_ it with you two?" Puck asked. He's _not_ jealous, damn it. He's so _not_, because that would be like he and Kurt were like, exclusive. And screw that. Puck was never the type to get tied down. That doesn't stop him from straining to hear Finn's quiet answer.

"Kurt is…special. I mean, I know…I _knew_ how he felt about me, before, but I guess I just _really_ didn't want to _know_, you know?" Finn looked at Puck hesitantly, and Puck nodded to show that he deciphered his friend's disjointed sentences. After a lifetime of listening to Finn-speak, Puck's a fluent translator. "And things got awkward after…well. Anyway, even though he never expected anything to happen between us, he was always there for me, through the…the Quinn thing…" And Finn's _definitely_ still not meeting his eyes there. "And other stuff. He's just, like, the closest friend I've got right now, because you and I are still weird, and stuff like that. And he's like a doll, you know? He likes to look all strong but one wrong word and he's broken. And I don't know if I can fix him the way that he fixed me. And it's…he's like my little brother now. And I want him to feel that way about me, but after…Kurt isn't talking to me."

Puck sort of melted at how thoroughly stomped on Finn looked. And, okay, he _really_ wants to know just what the hell went on with the two of them, but right now was _not_ the time to ask. Yeah, he had _some_ tact. So Puck did what he usually did when Finn was broke up – he gave him the one-armed bro hug, the kind that was all about being bros and not being gay, and Finn was quiet for a while.

"Why'd you sleep with Quinn?" he asked finally. Puck was surprised that there wasn't more anger behind it, but also kind of weirdly pleased.

"Because I was jealous, really," Puck said, matching Finn's soft tone. "I was used to having more than you, and I had a wood for Quinn years before you did, but then you got QB and I got shafted. So when I had a chance I took it. And I ain't proud of it, and I've paid for it in the worst way possible, but it is what it is, you know? So here I am. Sorry." It was probably one of the more eloquent apologies Puck had ever given, and Finn sighed in that way that Puck knew meant that Finn was already moving toward forgiveness.

"Look, Puck – you're kind of an asshole," Finn said seriously. Puck barked out a laugh, but Finn just steamrollered on. "What I mean is…what I said about Kurt being breakable, he _is_, man, no matter how he's acting now. And I want to be friends with you again, but I'm telling you right now, you need to not let him do what he's doing to himself because if you hurt him I'm going to kill you."

"I'm not gonna hurt him," Puck insisted exasperatedly. Why did _everyone_ in glee see _him_ as the bad guy in all of this? Hummel was the one who'd practically _thrown_ himself at him in the room yesterday…

"Yes you will, because you won't want to be with him the way that he wants someone to be with him," Finn said flatly, and since _when_ did Finn get all Dr. Phil? "I mean, can you tell me right now that you'd walk into that locker room holding Kurt's hand?"

"You mean like _you_ storming Karofsky in the red dress? Don't think those pictures aren't still all over Facebook," Puck deflected.

"Yeah, just like that," Finn said calmly. "Because I care about him, Puck, I really do. And you need to respect that."

"I do, Finn," Puck said quietly. He sighed as Finn just looked at him all expectant like. "Dude, I may not know what's going on with me, but I'm dancing this dance with Kurt, and I'm not gonna do it just to screw with him. You think I'd do this bet thing for anyone?"

"So you're really doing it?" Finn asked curiously.

"Hell, yeah! Did you _see_ him yesterday?" Puck snapped in frustration. When Finn gave him a leery look, Puck just shot him a glare. "If _Rachel_ had shown up in school dressed like that, tell me you wouldn't have jumped her."

"Okay, well, yeah, I kinda get your point," Finn said, blushing and looking down.

"How far have you gotten with her?" Puck asked, intrigued by the blush.

"We haven't gone all the way yet, but…she totally let me feel her up this weekend," Finn confessed.

"Well, that skank," Puck teased. Finn relaxed when he heard the teasing in his voice.

"Look, man, I'm gonna go shoot some hoops with Mike down at the court. Just…Puck? Think about what I said about Kurt." The freakishly tall kid stood up to lumber out of his room, and Puck sighed.

"I meant what I said, Finn – I'll see what I can do about getting Kurt to talk to you," he promised rashly.

"Thanks," Finn said softly, and then the door was closing and he was gone and Puck was in his hugely empty room. God, he'd missed having a best bro around. But Finn's words bounced like restless bunnies in Puck's head, and he collapsed back on his head with a groan. Great. Just when he had almost gotten Kurt out of his head for _one_ day, he danced back in through Puck's friends.

The cracks in the ceiling still weren't giving up their secrets.

**888**

"Get up, you idiot," said a pleasant voice, breaking into his restless nap. Puck blinked. No way was Quinn in his bedroom. "I said, _up_, you lazy ass," she commanded, snapping her manicured fingers inches from his face. Yes, indeed, Quinn Fabray was in his room and glaring at him. "Oh, and put some pants on. No one needs to see that."

"Huh – gah!" he yelped, almost toppling out of bed when he realized he'd kicked his boxers off during his sleeping battles. He was covered in sweat and not feeling good, and it didn't help that Quinn, of all people, was laughing at him meanly as he flailed around like a naked fish on his own floor, and, yeah, okay, maybe his mom had a _point_ about vacuuming under the bed every once in a while, because, _nasty_.

Quinn opened one of his drawers, and then his sweats were hitting him in the head with less force than he would have expected. She turned her head patiently while he picked himself up and pulled himself together. He ran his hands through his Mohawk out of habit, before remembering that it was gone and all he had was fuzz that felt weird when his hands brushed it. Stupid skin doctor.

"God, the way you act about that stupid Mohawk, it's like you lost one of your balls," Quinn said derisively. She held out a white T-shirt, and he automatically slipped it on, shooting her a questioning look. "Like I'm going to sit on any of the surfaces in here." She shuddered, eyeing his Finn-sweat covered bean bag chair. "We're going for a walk. And bring your wallet, because you're buying my ice cream from Phil's stand."

"What happened to dieting?" he asked, somewhat irritated that she could still order him around and have him respond automatically.

"What happened to showering?" she fired back, but she was smiling that special Quinn smile that softened the blow, and she headed downstairs to wait for him. Puck sighed and sprayed himself over with Axe on his way out. Quinn nodded approval to her lesser subject and led him out, all while his mother shot the non-Jew a dirty look. Puck stuck his tongue out at her and she began cursing in Yiddish as he shut the door with a snap behind him, chuckling. Quinn rolled her eyes and began walking down the sidewalk as he slipped into his flip-flops.

The day was actually nicer outside than he'd been fearing, and it was _weird_ how comfortable it was to just stroll down the road in companionable silence with this new, approachable Quinn. After a while, Quinn asked about his sister and her Girl Scout troupe (they still hadn't figured out that it was Puck who was stealing all of their thin mints and selling them at discount prices to the high school), and about what he thought about the glee assignment (going to be difficult but he was confident that it would be interesting), and on how he was faring having to actually attend math classes since their old, gullible nurse was still in a coma (damn her to hell, wherever she was in that stupid coma thing, and his algebra teacher could rot there with her).

When they made it to the ice cream stand, Puck bought a fudge pop and Quinn requested a small vanilla cone, which she lapped at daintily as they walked back toward his house. Ordinarily, Puck would have found a sight like that arousing, but Quinn was…not getting him going, for once, and Puck was disconcerted as she deliberately gave her cone a big long lick and sent him a knowing glance.

"You're actually going through with this psychotic bet thing, aren't you?" she asked, giggling as she swallowed some of the already-melting ice cream.

"I don't back down from a bet," Puck said gruffly.

"Oh, _Noah_," she sighed, looking at him in that irritating way that girls had where their eyes were saying _Why can't you just accept that my vagina makes me psychic and able to predict your emotions better than you yourself can, youngling?_ "You're kind of an idiot, do you know that?"

"What do you mean?" he hedged, but he knew exactly what she was talking about and they both knew it.

"You _like_ Kurt, Puck. You didn't even look at _me_ the way you looked at him on Thursday during that dance – that dance which he timed and did specifically to make you crazy, I'll have you know."

"Oh." Things clicked into place. "Well, that little bastard."

"Oh, yeah – he played you," Quinn said. She sounded entirely pleased. "Although, I wouldn't be all happy about this, because Santana's on the warpath and she's determined to get back in the backseat of your pickup by the end of next week."

"God, I knew she was a mistake as soon as it happened – and _she_ dumped _me_, man, over my _credit score_, for god's sake!" Puck muttered, viciously biting off a chunk of his fudge pop. Then he looked sideways at Quinn. "Do _you_ think I'm too much of a slut to get through this?"

"I think that you have a surprising amount of willpower and character when you really put your mind to it," Quinn said after a moment. "Even though we gave her up, you really came through during the pregnancy thing. You even stayed for the delivery."

"Well, she was my daughter," Puck said flatly. They both continued on in silence for a moment.

"I'm technically here on behalf of the rest of the club. Mercedes is threatening to take you down ghetto style, Tina is threatening to go Asian vampire on your family, Artie's planning on running you down in his motorized power chair, and everyone else is just confused. Actually, Brittany thinks that you and Kurt are plotting to kill her cat, and she hasn't left her room for a few hours, because he's gone missing and she can't figure out that he's hiding from her aggressively growing stuffed animal collection," Quinn counted off on her fingers.

"God, why does _everyone_ think that Kurt's going off like this is _my_ fault? Even _Finn_ is admitting that it's his fault!"

"Puck, they're scared," Quinn says. "Me? I _know_ that there's more to you than slushie facials and pee balloons, but they _don't_. And maybe I'm shooting myself in the foot saying this, but I think it's pretty obvious that Kurt likes you, too. And neither of you really let people in all that easy, so maybe…maybe all of this will be good for both of you."

"You're the only one who thinks so…wait. Why aren't _you_ freakin' over the fact that Kurt's, you know—"

"A _guy_?" She shot Puck a disparaging look. "Noah, do you really think Santana's the _only_ one that's made out with Brittany?"

"Damn, but she gets around," Puck said. They both eyed each other and burst out laughing. "It figures, really, that the girl who thinks that unicorns live in her locker when she isn't looking gets more play than either of us, these days." He nudged Quinn with his shoulder, and she nudged back. "So, Quinn…do _you_ know what happened?"

"Between Kurt and Finn? Yes, actually, I do, because I was the first one that Kurt called. And don't _ever_ tell Mercedes that I told you that, because he was a big sobbing wreck when I went to pick him up and he didn't want to look that weak in front of his friends." She shot him a look. "It's really private, Puck. If he wants to tell you, that's _his_ business."

"You've changed a lot," Puck noted.

"So have you," Quinn returned. "And maybe, if you let the rest of the club see that, they won't be so inspired to kill you when Kurt starts flirting with you next week." She was smiling mischievously as they sat down on his front porch steps.

"He's plotting something, isn't he?" Puck asked suspiciously.

"Oh, well. I think that all of this stepping out of his shell is _good_ for him. He's kept himself under so many wraps and layers of control these past few years that this is probably healthy," she said, neatly dodging his question.

"So…you two have been hangin' out a lot together," Puck said, feeling like a twelve year old. Quinn shot him a look that said she thought so too. "Does he talk about me much?"

"Go get your guitar," she told him, crunching into her ice cream cone.

"Oh, yeah – he's been talkin' about me," Puck said, feeling about fifty pounds lighter as he headed into the house. He heard the silver bells of Quinn's laughter behind him as he snagged his guitar from the front hall. His mother was in the kitchen, most doubt bitching over Quinn's ethnicity. "What do you want to sing?"

"Oh, just do a Schuester," she told him. "Find something that describes your day and I'll jump in."

Puck gave her a look that she returned in equal measure as he started strumming from one of Quinn's favorite albums. She recognized the song and burst out laughing as he started singing.

_Go away; give me a chance to miss you_

_Say goodbye; it'll make me want to kiss you_

_I love you so much more when you're not here_

_Watching all the bad shows and drinking all of my beer_

_._

_I don't believe Adam and Eve spent every god damn day together_

_Just give me some room; there will be room enough for two_

Quinn jumped in on the chorus, leaving him to wail out the notes while she took the lyrics, while they bopped their heads to the beat in the hot summer sun.

_Tonight_

_Leave me alone, I'm lonely, alone, I'm lonely_

_I'm tired_

_Leave me alone, I'm lonely, alone, I'm lonely_

_Tonight_

She took over for the second verse.

_I don't wanna wake up with another_

_But I don't wanna always wake up with you, either_

_No, you can't hop into my shower_

_All I ask for is one fucking hour!_

_._

_You taste so sweet but I can't eat the same thing everyday_

_I'm cutting off the phone; leave me the fuck alone!_

_Tomorrow I'll be begging you to come home!_

And then their voices just blended like ice cream, and Puck felt better than he had all weekend.

_Go away, come back_

_Go away, come back_

_Why can't I just have it both ways?_

_Go away, come back_

_Go away, come back_

_I wish you knew the difference_

_Go away, come back_

_._

_Tonight_

_Leave me alone, I'm lonely_

_Alone, I'm lonely…_

**Song in this chapter: "Leave Me Alone (I'm Lonely)" by the epic P!nk, from her equally epic album "I'm Not Dead", who is amazing. I maintain that they should do some of her songs. I'd love to see Santana take on "U + Ur Hand," and what about Kurt doing "Funhouse?" Ohhh, now I'm giving myself ideas…**

**A/N:** Gah, I'm brainfried! You guys might actually have to wait a little for the next chapter, so that I can write quality. This took longer to write than I thought it would. But overall, I'm pretty happy with the results.

Once again, thank you soooo much for the reviews and favorites and add-ons. Really, the enthusiastic response to this story is overwhelming, and I just want to thank all my readers for lifting my day up. See you on the flipside!


	6. 6 Come to Me

**A/N:** HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

I'd say 'sorry' for the wait, but, honestly, it's only been like two days, so I think that you guys are okay. I think that I'm done posting a chapter a night for a little while now, but then again, I've been wrong before when it comes to this story, so I won't make any promises.

Once again, thank you so much for all of the reviews and the overwhelmingly enthusiastic response to this story; you guys are the reason I'm writing and the reason I'm probably going to end up writing more _Glee_ stories after this one is done. Or that could be my own obsessiveness. *Wail!*

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

6. Come to Me

Puck drove Quinn to school on Monday. She was sick of walking, and her parents' impending divorce battle made borrowing her mother's car problematic. He didn't mind so much, except for the fact that he was kind of worried that the kids at school would start spreading rumors that he and Quinn were a couple again, because, no. Quinn just rolled her eyes at him and ordered him to smuggle her something caffeinated when he came to pick her up. They sucked down coffee from the gas station as they parked (she winced at the strength, used to Starbucks; he ignored her and kept chugging).

"Um, Noah…" Quinn said, glancing out the window. She sounded strange, so Puck looked up from grabbing his backpack. They were completely surrounded by jocks, all of them holding…the school newspaper?

"The hell?" Puck remarked, nonplussed. Shrugging, he hopped out of his pickup and shut the door, ignoring the shower of rust that dropped out of the crevice between the door and the rest of the truck. "Sup, bitches?" he asked magnanimously, noting with satisfaction that that idiot Karofsky wasn't around.

"Dude, check this out," said Matt, moving forward and shoving a copy of the newspaper in his hand. Puck bemusedly gazed down at the cover, and froze. A feeling of almost…fear quickened in his stomach. His guts felt like he'd swallowed a snake. The school newsletter had a bold, flashing headline: **Sex & Drama at WMHS!** Underneath was Puck's school picture from last year, when he'd still had the Mohawk. And underneath that was an entire article about him and Quinn, him and Santana, him and Rachel (referred to as 'Puckelberry', to his immense disgust), and a small section about Kurt Hummel.

"Holy shit," he whispered.

"Dude," said Johnson, one of the running backs. "You've been voted, like, the school's biggest slut on the website. There's a poll on the back."

Puck's hands trembled with rage as he tore through the cheap little photocopy until he hit a page that, sure enough, had online poll results with more than 1,200 hits – practically the entire freaking school had voted on the school's biggest slut. Puck felt almost dirty as he read the results:

**VOTE! WMHS's Biggest SLUT!**

**MEN:**

**Noah "Puck" Puckerman – 78%**

**Mr. William Schuester – 15%**

**Finn Hudson – 5%**

**Kurt Hummel – 2%**

**WOMEN:**

**Santana Lopez – 35%**

**April Rhodes – 35%**

**Coach Brenda Castle – 15%**

**Quinn Fabray – 10%**

**Rachel Berry – 5%**

"Way to go, man!" cheered the team, applauding. Puck's fists clenched the paper tight enough to start tearing the edges. Mike and Matt shot him worried looks, but they didn't say anything. "Dude; what's up with you and that fag—"

"Don't," said Quinn, standing tall and regal next to Puck, "call Kurt that."

"Oh, what're _you_ gonna do, preggers?" jeered Mitchell, laughing brutishly. "Sing a song?" Ripples of humiliating laughter spread through the gathered popular kids, a group that Puck should have been in. Instead, he was standing there, his face screwed up. Quinn had gone very still next to him, a sure sign that she was angry, but what was she going to do? She wasn't head cheerleader anymore; she wasn't _Quinn Fabray_ anymore. She was just Quinn, glee geek and formerly pregnant disgrace.

"Yeah, Puckerman – I hear she ain't putting out anymore! You so desperate you're gonna nail the gay kid now? I hear Castle's sloppy seconds aren't half bad!"

"Shut up," he snarled, a growl in his voice that would've stopped them in their tracks a month ago. Now? He saw it coming, but that didn't stop the utter humiliation he felt as what must've been ten slushies flew through the air and soaked him and Quinn, splashing his clothes and his face.

Puck didn't even _see_ who he hit first; all he knew was that he had launched himself into the crowd and his fists were swinging. He didn't feel the punches he was taking, or the skin breaking on his knuckles, or hear Quinn's horrified yell. He'd snapped, and it felt so _good_ releasing himself on this crowd of idiots, these losers who were never gonna make it out of this school or this town and they _still _mattered more than him on the scale of a high school that he used to _rule_ just by walking in the front door.

Before he knew it, he was getting hauled off and his hands were trapped; he struggled like a wild animal but they had a hold of him too strong. He heard them laughing and jeering, and then he was flying through the air and in a cruelly ironic twist he landed in the garbage in the filthy dumpster, that same dumpster he'd tossed so many poor, unfortunate nerds into over the last couple of years, and he just lay still and let the humiliation, pain, and anger soak into him as he tipped his head back and shut his eyes.

"Hey, dogface," said a soft voice. Puck slowly opened his eyes after what felt like an eternity to see Kurt Hummel leaning over the edge of the dumpster with a smirk on his face. Despite everything, his insides felt a little tingly when he saw the softly mocking expression on the smaller boy's face. "You aren't laughing," Kurt noted. "What's the matter? Oh. Maybe you need to see it from _my_ angle just to appreciate the sweet, sweet irony. _Idi_ot," he commented, and _there_ it was, that look on his face that Kurt didn't wear for anyone else he insulted.

"Don't you have something better to do than laugh at me?" Puck asked, his voice coming out whinier than he wanted it to. "Like class or something?"

"And miss _this_?" Mercedes asked incredulously, joining Kurt at the top of the dumpster. Her eyes were sparkling with laughter. "Yeah, right!"

"Tell him to start packing air fresheners," Artie's voice called out helpfully from somewhere outside. "If he's going to start taking dumpster dives, he needs to be prepared to get rid of the smell. I'm not dancing with someone who smells like leftover prison food." Tina's bell-like laughter rang outside merrily.

"You guys suck," Puck complained, but oddly enough, he was starting to smile.

"You all seem so used to this," Mr. Schuester said in that way that meant 'I'm worried about your self esteem.' "Did this happen to you?" Puck had no idea that Kurt's eyes _could_ roll back in his head like that.

"Oh, Mr. Schue, what did you _think_ was happening every morning you walked past the jocks holding me in place next to this thing?" Kurt asked, sounding almost pitying.

"Oh," Mr. Schuester said, sounding small.

"Noah, stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up," Kurt ordered. Maybe it was the laughter in his eyes, or the snippiness in his voice…or the way that he said Puck's _name_ that had Puck moving from his position of shame to stand up. Kurt smiled softly, and Puck grinned back. Mercedes shot them both a suspicious look as she stood back. "Now, give me your hands and use the latch in the corner for leverage. You're going to have to jump out."

Kurt's hands were smaller than even some of the girls that Puck had dated, but oddly there were a few hard patches that Puck figured must have come from working in his father's shop. His hands were soft and small but undeniably _male_, and when their hands met Puck swore he felt a spark that made his arms go numb. Kurt flushed and glanced down, and Puck noticed that he didn't look so overconfident today. He felt a surge of something almost like protectiveness when his hands, so much bigger than Kurt's, enveloped the smaller boy.

"I'm sorry I ever did this to you," he said, his voice soft so that only Kurt could hear.

"Good – at least this was a learning experience. Moron," Kurt returned, smirking that sweetly mocking smile that he never wore with anyone else…not even Finn. That more than anything propelled Puck out of the garbage, leaving him blinking in the bright sunlight. Kurt gave him an almost unreadable smile as he stepped back.

"I like your hair," Puck said stupidly as the red highlights in it hit the sunlight. He couldn't remember if he'd commented on it when Kurt had first come into school with his new look. Kurt was still rocking it, with minimal makeup; he was wearing a form-fitting red shirt (who _knew_ that he actually had stomach muscles?) underneath a slim, almost feminine leather jacket; and soft, hugely expensive looking jeans with D & G stamped on the back pockets. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a GQ photoshoot.

"Thanks," Kurt said, that smirk still playing around his lips. "I figured it was time for a change." He seemed to register that most of the glee club was still there, watching their almost intimate interaction with unconcealed levels of shock and interest. Quinn was watching them with a soft smile on her face. "So, is there any particular reason that you went off on the Philistines today?"

Puck didn't really know what that meant, but he was scowling as he shoved the school newsletter he was still clenching into Kurt's hands. The other boy gave him a bemused look, but the smile on his face faded into stormy gray as he scanned through the article, flipping to the back. His eyebrows lifted in shock, but Puck could hear him fighting to keep his voice even and collected in front of their audience as he said aloud, "Rachel Berry ranks higher than _I_ do on this list? I'm so offended I think I could just cry." He shoved the offending article into Mercedes' waiting hands and, without another word, pulled Quinn into a tight hug.

"Oh, _hell_," Mercedes commented as Tina and Rachel leaned in to read over her shoulders. "How does this little rat _get_ this stuff?"

"Don't look at me," Rachel said huffily. "_I'm_ still recovering from that nightmarish incident where he attempted to blackmail me for my underwear to keep Quinn's story out of public consumption."

"And look how well _that_ turned out," Artie commented drily. Tina guiltily sent the paper his way, and Puck watched as Artie tried not to display how hurt he was that she had seemingly forgotten that he couldn't stand over her shoulder to read it as well. Underneath the roiling mass of confused feelings, Puck could identify a pang of sympathy for the kid in the wheelchair. Ever since he'd been kicked out of the circle of popular jocks and had the rest of New Directions think he was scum since the whole Finn/Quinn thing, Puck felt like he was living his life through other people. He wasn't used to this whole sympathy kick, and he looked away awkwardly from the private moment.

"Hey, guys – what's going on?" Finn asked, coming over from the school. "There's a bunch of football players headed towards the nurse's office, and everyone's yelling about the news...what'd I miss?" Rachel went over to share the news with him and an outraged Mr. Schuester as Kurt and Quinn came over to Puck. Everyone was staring at them, almost like lines were being drawn, and Puck realized that Kurt really was the only one out of the entire club that had actually helped him out of the dumpster. Everyone else was grouped around Finn, like it was some kind of contest. Mercedes looked at Kurt in confusion as Kurt seemed to grasp this, too. Finn was looking at the three of them like he couldn't figure out if he was hurt or angry about something. Kurt didn't meet Finn's eyes, and instead turned to Puck and Quinn as if he was genuinely angry about something.

"Come on, guys – we need to get you two cleaned up before first period." Taking both of their hands, Kurt drew them toward the school and away from the rest of the club.

"Kurt?" Mercedes said, sounding small and far away.

"They need help, 'Cedes," said Kurt softly, as if he was asking something.

"Yeah, I guess they do," she said softly, and then she too stepped away from the others and came to join them. Kurt sagged in something like relief, but Rachel was watching them all with a furious expression on her face. "White folks," Mercedes muttered to herself as she gently took Quinn's hand and led her to the girl's bathroom as Kurt drew Puck into the boys', locking the door behind him.

"What'd you do that for?" Puck asked, feeling distinctly nervous about being in such a small space with this new, fierce, almost...sexy Kurt with no way out. Kurt shot him a look, and that smirk was back. Puck felt something like...something he couldn't even describe as he realized that Kurt wasn't projecting that mask of vicious self-reliance to him that he did with the others. This was Kurt, without a facade, and it was...kinda nice, that he felt okay enough with Puck to not shield himself.

"First, because we don't need those idiots to walk in here and make more assumptions than they already have," Kurt said, leading him to the sink. There was a chair off to the side that Puck realized the boy himself must have dragged in here for these situations. It made him feel even more shitty that he'd ever slushied anyone in his life. It was a miserable feeling. "Second, because us slushied freaks need to stick together. And third, if I'm ever going to save face and climb _up_ that miserable list, I need _someone_ run and tell that horny freak Ben-Israel that I just dragged you into the nearest locked room so that we could have wild monkey sex before first period."

Puck choked out a startled laugh as Kurt calmly shoved him down into the chair and forced him to tilt his head back. He was strangely okay with Kurt manhandling him as he forced him to tilt his head back, and Puck fell silent as Kurt's brow furrowed with concentration as he began washing the sticky corn syrup off of Puck's face, and hair, and head. Rachel had done this once, but it was perfunctory, and chore-like. She'd been envisioning Finn's face while they were making out, she'd told him once in one of her more bitchy moments. But Kurt held his face like it was something...face-like. Were Kurt's hands shaking as he touched his face? Puck almost wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that Kurt wasn't doing all of this to get back at Finn, and that scared him more than anything.

Ever since Puck had joined this stupid glee club, things had started going screwy. He was actually _facing_ his _feelings_ and owning up to what he felt and what he did, and...what if Mercedes was actually right? What if there were some things about himself and his life that he didn't like so much? Maybe, just maybe, he _wanted_ someone in his corner for moments like this morning. Maybe he wanted something that Finn took for granted: someone's...feelings. Puck had never had anyone actually take care of him the way that Kurt was taking care of him now, and Kurt wasn't expecting anything back out of it.

When his dad had walked out of their lives, his mom had fallen apart. Puck had raised himself, and it was a scary business. He didn't let anyone in, because when he did, it bit him in the ass. So he surprised himself with how badly he wanted Kurt's doe-like eyes to light up when he walked into the room the way they did when Finn walked in. He gently reached out his finger and traced it through the furrow of Kurt's frowny brow, absurdly pleased when Kurt's frown smoothed out easily under his touch. Kurt's breath caught in his throat.

"Sing something for me," Puck whispered, even though they were alone in the bathroom and Kurt could hear him fine. Kurt looked panicked, like he was going to run away, but also like he was going to stay. Puck hoped with everything he had that Kurt was going to stay. Kurt finally leaned back into work. His mouth was close enough to Puck's ear that when he sang out in a husky contralto, he almost whispered the song into Puck's ears. Puck closed his eyes and felt his lips curl up like a cat with cream as Kurt's delicate yet strong fingers massaged comfort into Puck's clean skin.

_I remember when you said that life was hard on you, and_

_I remember when I watched you come undone again_

_And I still feel now all the damage you've kept inside_

_All the walls that you've built up, and all the bridges you've burned down_

_But in the end it comes down to: I'm the one always around_

Kurt smelled nice...

_Come to me – I'll set you free_

_Come to me – Make me believe you'll_

_Come to me_

_And I will help you crawl_

_Won't let you fall_

_I'll show you how to breathe_

_So come to me_

Puck couldn't help smirking as Kurt thoughtfully warmed the water up a little more as he lightly picked through Puck's eyebrows and eyelashes, and Kurt warningly poked at one of his eyes. But he didn't stop singing. And Finn was nowhere around...

_I believe in how the past can never be undone_

_And I believe that now if I hold you you can see the sun_

_And I believe it now, that in the future you'll let me inside_

_All it takes is time to see that all you need is room to breathe_

_I can feel it through my mind – now all you need is me..._

Kurt broke off as he stepped back from Puck. Puck's eyes opened, and he saw Kurt standing there, looking so vulnerable...Hell, he wasn't good at this stuff. But he didn't want Kurt to look hurt. And there was oddly nothing sexual about it as he pulled Kurt into a hug. For a long moment, they just stood there, comforting and warm. "I'm sorry," Kurt whispered. "I probably set all of this off, you know; they don't usually go after anyone but me like this..."

"Screw 'em," Puck said decidedly. "If they wanna come after me, they can take the broke jaws I'll dish out." Kurt snorted against his chest. They pulled back to look at each other, and Kurt was suddenly looking a _lot_ less vulnerable and a _lot_ more flirty. Puck smirked and stepped back. "Don't give me those eyes. I'm on a diet right now."

"You're really going through with this, aren't you?" Kurt asked, his eyebrows raising. He looked like a kid who'd been told Christmas was coming a month early. Puck felt his insides go girly and mushy.

"You drive a hard bargain," he said, lightly thrusting his pelvis in Kurt's direction.

"I also said no flirting," Kurt pointed out, though he was smiling.

"Didn't say nothing about sexual innuendo," Puck said reasonably.

"Innuendo...a word with four syllables!" Kurt applauded lightly, that damn mocking smirk firmly back in place, the one that he didn't give to anyone else. "Maybe we need some more slushies around; I'm worried that that dumpster dive may have knocked vocabulary words into that skull of yours."

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," Puck growled, stepping closer. Kurt fearlessly stepped forward to meet him...their lips were kinda close...

"What are you two doing in there, mating?" Quinn's voice rang out waspishly from the other side of the door. Kurt laughed meanly at Puck's crestfallen look as the moment was broken and Kurt was slipping past him into the bright hallways. Quinn gave him a look as the door swung closed, and then she and Kurt and Mercedes were skipping off down the hallway. Puck didn't miss the fractionally warm smile that Mercedes gave him on her way past.

Somehow, this day was starting to look up.

**888**

By lunchtime, Puck was fighting to keep a smile in place. Everyone he walked past was pointing and whispering. It was humiliating. And that pissed him off. It used to be that he'd get off on this – he was Puck, football stud and master of these Lima losers' universe. Now, though, it wasn't the same. He knew what they were whispering about him, and it was making him feel like shit. Losers weren't even flinching away from him anymore. What was the world coming to? And all that was left in him was a growing desire to find that little journalist bastard and beat the stuffing out of him.

Maybe that was why he'd squeaked like a terrified mouse and literally sprinted in the other direction when he'd seen Puck in the hall. Puck thought about this and decided that he'd try to keep the murderous expression from his face the next time he approached the rat; that way he'd be able to isolate him and break his face without witnesses. It used to be that he had enough social standing to not even worry about witnesses or pesky little consequences. Nowadays, if he so much as twitched out of line Figgins would have him cleaning the bathroom floors after school without a second thought.

By the time lunch had rolled around, Puck's skin was crawling and his muscles were twitching. If he didn't punch _something_ soon, he was going to blow up. As he walked into the cafeteria, watching the girls wave at him merrily before cackling amongst themselves, his fists clenched. He stilled dangerously as a crowd of his former football buddies walked toward them. He was murderously satisfied at the amount of vicious bruising, black eyes and busted lips that they were sporting. Looking at their faces, he decided that this was going to go bad fast. They were all carrying slushies. Wonderful.

"Hey, Puckerman – see you got outta the trash. Your _boyfriend_ help you out? You two go singing together?" sneered Dave Karofsky, the ringleader of the dog pack.

"Yes, actually, we did," Kurt said coldly from behind him. Puck froze as Kurt, Mercedes, Quinn, Artie, Tina, Mike and Matt all stepped up around him. "It was downright dreamy. Because we all _know_ that Puck is a big flamer." Puck could practically see Kurt's eyes rolling. It was impossible for his insulting tone to be taken any other way, and Puck watched with satisfaction as the first rumblings of genuine unease rippled through the footballers. _They_ smeared the queer, not the other way around. But now Kurt was facing them, pure derision in his eyes as Puck's _friends_ flanked him, not letting him get hurt. "I guess you really _are_ as stupid as you look, or maybe you would've caught on to the fact that Puck's screwed most of your _moms_."

When Karofsky stepped forward, Kurt laughed and sashayed toward him, the pants he was wearing emphasizing how cute his ass was (Puck had to laugh at himself; even in this situation, he was _still_ cruising (_Oh, yeah, I'm a stud_)). "Oh, were you going to slushie someone? Here; lemme help you out with that." And without warning, Kurt smacked the bottom of Karofsky's slushie. Puck's mouth dropped open and a collective gasp went through the cafeteria faster than wildfire as the bright blue liquid soared upward and smacked into Karofsky's stupid, gorilla-like face with a wet smacking sound, going up his nose and into his shocked, wide-open eyes.

"HUMMEL!" he bellowed. "I'm going to—"

"Going to what?" Kurt asked innocently. "Explain to one Sue Sylvester that a brute from the football team that has literally won _one_ game this year – which was _my_ doing, in case you've forgotten – has beaten up her star singer that helped the Cheerios win nationals..._again_? Look, here's your chance; she's right over there." He gestured behind him, and they all turned to watch as the fearsome cheerleading coach stalked into the cafeteria, scattering innocent passerby from her fiery eyes.

"Elton John!" she snapped as she walked toward them. "Interesting news in the newsletter today. Care to explain your association with lower life forms?" She pointed a menacing finger in Puck's direction.

"When Puck and I practice, he manages to _help_ me hit the really..._high_ notes," Kurt said innocently. Puck stared. Was he..._blushing_? Was this what blushing felt like? Mercedes and Quinn were sniggering behind him.

"Ruthless," Sylvester noted after a moment. "I didn't think you had the balls. Keep it up." Like a caged tiger, she rounded on the jocks. "Don't you have a game somewhere you're currently losing?"

"Y-yes ma'am," Karofsky said.

"You look like two of the smurfs just fornicated and combusted on your face," she snarled. "I find you offensive and disgusting. Leave my presence immediately."

"B-b-but, I haven't gotten lunch yet," Karofsky muttered, toeing the ground.

"Hah!" she barked. "You think going without food for a day is hard? Try having a filthy prostitute masquerading as an astronomy teacher tell you you should look into getting a facelift; _that's_ hard!" Her eyes shot fire as her archnemesis, Brenda Castle, stepped into the cafeteria with her usual drunken stagger. Karofsky didn't need to be yelled at twice; he turned tail and all but ran out of the cafeteria.

"You're going to pay for that later," Puck said quietly, staring at Kurt.

"I'm all about paying for being impulsive lately," Kurt noted, his eyes raking Puck's body hotly.

"Wh-what happened to no flirting?" he asked weakly, oblivious to the people watching them.

"I never said that _I_ couldn't flirt with you, Noah," Kurt informed him evilly.

"You're trying to break me so that you'll win!" Puck accused, but he was starting to genuinely smile again.

"Well, the whole point of this is _winning_, isn't it?" Kurt asked, but in a way that had Puck questioning exactly what Kurt really did want out of all of this. It was a nice feeling. "Now, stop standing there and come sit with us."

"Thought that the gleeks didn't want me at their table," Puck said, challengingly eying the others, who at least had the good grace to look down.

"I do," Kurt said flatly. "Now, come sit with me and tell me how nice you think my butt looks in these jeans. Idiot." He gave Puck that damn smirk again, and without needing to be told twice, Puck went to sit at the head of the cafeteria with the rest of his team. He sat in between Kurt and Quinn, surrounded by the others, as Rachel and Finn sat at the end of the table. Rachel looked furious. Puck grinned. Okay, so today wasn't that bad...

**Song in this chapter was: "Come to Me" by Megan McCauley from her album _Better Than Blood_. If you haven't heard her music yet, you should. She's amazing – she has Amy Lee's range and P!nk's raw scratchiness at the same time. I can't recommend her music enough.**

**A/N:** So, now that shameless music plugging is out of the way, I hope that you guys enjoyed the chapter. The Puck/Kurt action is really going to start picking up with the next chapter, and though not a _whole_ lot happened, this one was sort of necessary to continue the story. Once again, thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, and I hope that you continue to enjoy the story!


	7. 7 Once More, With Feeling

**A/N:** Okay, so that whole theory about not writing a chapter a night just sorta flew out the window, didn't it? Actually, I've been promoted to manager at my job (yay, pay raise!) so tomorrow night I _really_ won't be able to post anything. Luckily, this chapter is extra, extra important/special/good/long, so I think it'll tide you selfish bastards over until I can post again.

As always, thank you _so_ much for all of the reviews/favorites/adds that I've been getting for this; it means so much and it inspires me to keep on writing. This chapter definitely goes out to all of my readers – you guys are the best. Gleeks united!

**Special Note: During the music in this chapter, BOLD = PUCK, ITALIC = KURT, BOLD/ITALIC = DUET**

**The title of this chapter comes from the **_**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_** musical of the same name. None of the songs from it were used, but the plot of that was that secrets were exposed through song, and this chapter is music-heavy, so it seemed fitting.**

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

7. Once More, With Feeling

Puck's world was being turned upside-down, and he was pretty damn sure that he could blame Kurt Hummel for the entire thing. He said as much to Quinn one day when he was dropping by Kurt's house for practice just as she was leaving (Kurt, aside from being her other new best friend, was helping her with a project she was keeping a viciously guarded secret).

"Puck, you _could_ have said 'no' to this whole bet thing," she pointed out with a decidedly un-ladylike snort.

"Would _you_ have said no, if you were me?" Puck asked, shooting her his signature sexy eyes.

"Every time you look at me like that, I get nightmarish flashbacks to having morning sickness," she returned slowly, smirking a remarkably similar expression to Kurt's sarcastic trademark. She tilted her head, sounding amused. "And, to answer your question, no, I don't think that it shocked anyone when _you_ of _all people_ agreed to this bout of insanity."

"I'm losing my touch," Puck grumbled. "I haven't gotten my rocks off in _two weeks_."

"And I'm sure it helps _so_ much the way that you and Kurt are all over each other every second of the day." By now he could tell that Quinn was totally laughing at him. And the thing was, she was _right_ – he and Kurt had been tied at the hip lately, and Puck just…didn't mind, actually. Once you got past the bitter ice prince routine, Kurt had a surprisingly good sense of humor, and the more time they spent together the more walls that Kurt let down…and vice versa. Kurt had an unsettling ability to cheer Puck up with a raised eyebrow and a kindly insult to his clothing.

At school, they were pretty much left alone – well, Kurt was; ever since he'd had his little attitude makeover and had developed a frighteningly vast repertoire of insults along with his uncanny ability to sic Sylvester upon the unsuspecting populace, Kurt was treated either like one of the popular kids or just left alone. Puck received the occasional slushie facial, but it was usually from someone who ran away before he could register who it was ever since it'd gotten out that he'd broken Mitchell's face in two places during the dumpster incident. But the thing was, whenever he _did_ get slushied, Kurt was there to wash him clean again. Sometimes, if Puck gave him the puppy dog eyes, Kurt would sing softly to him, though on one memorable occasion Kurt had refused.

**888**

"I'm always doing all the work – why don't you sing me something?"

Puck gave him a look. "Because I've got water and slushie on my face."

Kurt did that smirk thing – he had a lot of them; this one was the one that promised Puck nothing but trouble if he listened to whatever was going to come out of the soprano's mouth next. "Well, if you're so sure that I can outsing you, I could always just practice with Quinn and Mercedes tonight—"

"Hell with that," Puck said flatly. Because the way their practices had been going lately, no _way_ was he letting Kurt do it with anyone else. And he was _not_ jealous. Damn it. "'Sides, everyone knows I sing better than you do."

"Tough words," Kurt mocked. So Puck shut his eyes on Kurt's victoriously smirking lips (lips he really wanted to kiss; god, celibacy was doing funny things to him) and he started to sing.

**I'll be with you on your way to work  
When your car turns on, you'll probably hear me  
You can't run your car without me (Without me)  
Want a deal, costs you a hundred G's  
I am, I am**

**I am music  
I'm melodies and harmonies  
Stereo and mono  
On the radio, the radio  
I said I am music  
I'm simply dope beats  
Intros and drum rolls  
On the radio, the radio**

Kurt's hands were shaking as they traced over Puck's features, and not for the first time Puck fantasized about what else those talented fingers could be doing, what else he and Kurt could be doing, alone, in here…

**I'll meet you at a summer jam  
I'm with you PM or AM  
I'll work out with you when you're at the gym  
And when you clean the house, I'll be in the den  
Cuz I am**

**I am music  
Melodies, harmonies  
Mono, stereo, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
I am music  
Simply dope beats  
Tempos, drum rolls, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh**

Maybe Kurt had the same thought, because his face was flushed and his breathing quickened by the time he was finished helping Puck clean himself off. And then Puck took Kurt's hands in his own and pulled Kurt onto his lap so that Kurt could feel exactly what his hands were doing to Puck. Kurt met his eyes, his pupils dilated till his sea-like eyes were almost black, and, without skipping a beat, took over Aaliyah's part, their voices blending on the final chorus into a symphony in the confines of the tiny, heated bathroom…

_You may find me at a shopping mall  
I'm not buying but I'll be for sale  
I'll be a feeling when your talent shows  
Might even hear me at a restaurant  
Cuz I am_

_**Cuz I am**_

_**I am music  
Melodies, harmonies  
Mono, stereo, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
I am music  
Simply dope beats  
Tempos, drum rolls, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh**_

_**Cuz I am**_

_**I am music  
Melodies, harmonies  
Mono, stereo, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh  
I am music  
Simply dope beats  
Tempos, drum rolls, ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh**_

Puck was sure that this broke Kurt's no-flirting rule, but, dammit, he just couldn't bring himself to care. For the last week, Kurt had been just…looking at him, like his piercing gaze could see straight into the parts of Puck that no one else could see, or touching him with those soft hands and hard muscles, a dichotomy that no one but Kurt could make sexy, Puck was sure. The _dreams_ he was having…

"Noah," Kurt said unsteadily…Those full, beautiful lips shaping his name…getting closer…closer, till his moist breath mingled with Kurt's, inches from his goal…Kurt's tiny, pink tongue darted out to wet his lips and—

When the door burst open, _Finn_ of all people walked in, and the two of them leaped apart as if they'd been burned. Puck could've _killed_ Finn in that moment; every nerve ending in his body was on fire. Finn was staring at them, looking vaguely like he'd been hit. Kurt took a breath, looked between the two of them, and then said more calmly than Puck would have thought possible, "Hello, Finn Hudson," just the way that he always used to before the drama started. Those three words were more than Kurt had said to Finn in ages, and Puck remembered the second time they'd been in the bathroom like this—

_("Dude, Finn looks like a kicked puppy every time you walk into a room. Would it _kill_ you to talk to him?"_

"_Why do you want me to, Noah?"_

_And, really, it just wasn't _fair_ the way that Kurt said his name like that, how it melted Puck into goo, malleable and weak in Kurt's fingers. "Because I want my friend back," he said truthfully._

"_Okay.")_

"Oh…um, hey, Kurt!" Finn said, and Puck practically bristled at how overjoyed Finn sounded to talk to Kurt. Finn didn't get to talk to his…his Kurt like that! Kurt might get all confused and think that he liked Finn again! Maybe his thoughts were showing on his face because Kurt was looking at him like he was scared, like it was just dawning on him how many barriers had just dropped between the two of them. Kurt nodded a polite goodbye to both of them and sped out of the bathroom and away from Puck.

"Puck," Finn started, but no way was Puck having this conversation, so instead he cut him off.

"See? Told you I'd get him talking again," he said, his happy voice sounding fake even to his own ears. He clapped Finn on the shoulder and got the hell out of there, but Finn's eyes were all but screaming that he was pissed the hell off about what he'd seen and that the conversation was _not_ over…

**888**

"Earth to Puck?" snapped Quinn, jolting him back to the present. "Something's moving in your pants, and I doubt so _very_ much that it's a snake." Puck nervously glanced down. Quinn just sighed and said flatly, "Burt Hummel is home today." That right there did the deflating trick. Quinn laughed at him rather meanly.

"Don't laugh at me," Puck whined. "That man is freaking _scary_ when he's pissed."

"Well, it sure didn't help how you two first _met_, idiot," she joked, shoving his shoulder.

"Does Kurt tell you _everything_?" Puck demanded sourly.

"Of course he does. And no, before you even ask, I'm not telling you a thing. Find out yourself." He stuck his tongue out at her and she reached out and gave it a hard tug.

"Bitch," he said without heat.

"Slut puppy," she shot back. Well, that was certainly the impression that Burt Hummel had…

**888**

"So, have you picked out my slave routine yet?"

Kurt shot him one of those looks that Puck was getting better at reading. It had been four days since The Bet was made, and he was starting to feel the discomfort – not that he was letting Kurt know that. Mostly he was still dealing with the fallout of the magazine article. Kurt seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Was it really necessary to hoist Ben-Israel all the way to the _top_ of the flagpole?" Kurt asked him, flipping through his iPod. "And no, by the way, I'm still coming to a decision."

"He needed to learn his lesson," Puck grumbled, flopping into Kurt's vanity chair.

"You made him eat five copies of that story," Kurt commented, giving him a half-amused, half-exasperated look. "When the fire department got there to get him down, they had to force-feed him the Epicac I gave them from Coach Sylvester's office so that he wouldn't get poisoned or something."

"I guess I may have overreacted," Puck said after a moment. Kurt was beginning to smirk that special smirk that Puck was coming to love, the one that he only ever gave Puck and no one else. "So, we really need to work on this thing if we're going to win."

"We're going to win, if I have to melt down my gold rings and poison Rachel Berry with pure filigree," Kurt said flatly. "She'd certainly appreciate the irony from heaven."

"Dude. You've been spending _way_ too much time in Sylvester's office," Puck noted, shaken.

"She likes me. She thinks that I'm her new protégé and she's determined to cultivate my brutality if I'm to take over as co-captain of the Cheerios," Kurt said off-handedly. "And, she's insulted the other Cheerios for too long; since I'm gay I'm a new source of ammunition. I think that she's practicing with me in the mornings for her afternoon sparring sessions with Castle."

"You didn't tell me that you were getting upped to head Cheerio," Puck said after a while, impressed. Kurt'd only been on the squad for what, six weeks?

"I haven't told anyone. It's going to strain my schedule, what with glee and all, but I'm going to go through with it." He met Puck's eyes challengingly, as if he were expecting Puck to argue with him. When Puck didn't, but kept his gaze, Kurt got flustered and stared down at his iPod again. "I brought you here because last time we only sang together. This time we need to incorporate dancing so I can see what I'm going to have to adjust for our final performance to see how much help I'm going to have to give you."

"I'm not a complete dancing retard," Puck pointed out.

"Sure you aren't," Kurt said absently as he landed on a song. "Here's your sheet music."

"Lemme guess – you're the girl part," Puck said, leering up at him.

"The leaps and bounds your brain is making without sex. You should join a monastery," Kurt said drily. They both burst out laughing after picturing that.

"This song is called 'Superfabulous,'" Puck said after a moment. "Dude…that's kind of—"

"Finish that sentence and die," Kurt warned.

"—built for us, don't you think?" Kurt smirked again and hit the play button. Hard pounding club music filled the room, the kind that Puck could see in a player's bar. When Kurt hauled him to his feet, he didn't resist.

_Won't you wake me up from this?_

**Yeah, come on—you can turn it on**

**Yeah, come on**

_Wake me up, wake me up_

_Wake me up, wake me up_

**Yeah, come on—you can turn it on**

**Yeah, come on—but you never really die**

_Flashbulbs go off in my face_

_Think of small town with disgrace_

_Just how did it come to this?_

_All they see is a vacant face_

.

**It goes over and over and over and over but yet**

**there's something beautiful**

**Over and over - Goes over and over but yeah**

**still something beautiful-mystical**

**Over and over - Goes over and over but yet**

**there's something beautiful (yeah come on)**

**Over and over - Goes over and over but yeah**

**still something beautiful-mystical (yeah come on)**

Kurt's hips were moving in an easy rhythm, his voice husky and sexy. Puck followed Kurt's lead and put his hands on Kurt's hips, guiding them through a circular pattern around the basement. When Kurt writhed sensuously to the left, Puck went right, until their energy was bouncing off of each other. It was almost easy to pretend they _were_ in a club, and Puck knew how to club hop.

He tried not to let it show how hot and bothered Kurt's dancing was getting him.

_Used to be so beautiful_

_And pretty god damn truthful too_

_You once said that I was deep_

_But that was 'fore I walked asleep_

_Won't you wake me up from this?_

_All I need is a prince to kiss_

_Then my beauty'll be back, mine_

_It's my soul, my soul I'll find_

_God_, did Kurt's kissable lips have to get so _close_ on that line? Angry at Kurt's teasing, Puck swirled him around till they were face to face, practically having dry sex as the song continued. Kurt was…hard too…

**The situation, the situation is:**

**Beethoven, roll over...**

**It goes over and over and over and over but yet**

**there's something beautiful**

**Over and over - Goes over and over but yeah**

**still something beautiful-mystical**

**Over and over - Goes over and over but yet**

**there's something beautiful (yeah come on)**

**Over and over...**

Kurt, taking control once more, shoved him away as the beat changed, and before Puck even knew what was happening his shirt was being lifted and Kurt's hands were running over the muscled planes of his chest, hunger in his eyes as he belted the lyrics with fierce gusto that would have put Rachel to shame.

_Stars collide and steal my fate_

_I'm the one they'll all embrace_

_I get down on my knees to pray_

_To think of your love some day_

_The silver's tarnished, blackened now_

_But I have faith I'll have my crown_

_Don't listen to sirens sing  
Keep my truth I will take reign_—

The music cut off abruptly, and Puck and Kurt whirled around to see Burt Hummel standing at the foot of the stairs, looking like a wounded rhinoceros. _Oh…shit…_ Puck was inclined to run to blind panic at the _look_ on that man's face. Puck's hands flew off of Kurt's skin as fast as if Kurt were 5,000 degrees. Kurt was trembling, even.

"Um, dad…"

"Upstairs. Now. Clothes. Now." Burt ground out, giving them both an evil look. When had Kurt's shirt gotten unbuttoned? Puck wasn't going to ask; he took his shirt and threw it back on, following Kurt's timid footsteps up the stairs. Puck considered making a break for it, but decided against it since Burt was less than a step behind him, looking at him as if trying to cause Puck to spontaneously combust with his mind. In the living room, Finn looked up at the strange sight of the three of them.

"Uh," he said.

"Finn, go up to your room," Burt ordered. Finn didn't need to be told twice; shooting Kurt an almost apologetic stare.

"Dad, it was a dance, we weren't—"

"Kurt, care to explain this?" Burt snapped, tossing a copy of the school newsletter onto the coffee table. Kurt froze. Then, he went from apologetic to hopping mad fast enough to give Puck whiplash.

"Finn," Kurt hissed, his fists clenched.

"Yeah, _Finn_," Burt snarled, his eyes small and mean. "And how do you think that made _me_ feel, having the kid who _isn't my __**son**_ showing me this because the boy who _is my __**son**_ won't talk to me about it?"

"Dad, it's some _stupid_ school thing—"

"Oh, like the clothes and the hair and 'tude are new 'school things?'" Burt asked, sounding almost hurt and confused, and damn it this was why Puck never met the parents because when he did it just got downright awkward. "What the hell is going on with you, Kurt? Are you dating this kid? Isn't he the kid that cheated with Finn's girl?"

"That's complicated—" Puck began.

"Shut up," Burt advised him, turning back to Kurt.

"And what if I was?" Kurt snapped, the ice prince going up around him, and even Puck could see his father flinch at the unfamiliar barrier going up between him and his only son.

"I'm just gonna," Puck said, sidling toward the door.

"You _stay_," Burt ordered. Puck stayed. And sweated. "And, Kurt, I don't deserve this attitude—"

"Don't you?" Kurt asked, sounding small and hurt. "What if I told you we were gonna have sex soon? Would you even want to talk about it?"

"What the hell is this about? You and Finn? Because he told me—"

"He _told_ you?" Kurt yelped, going red.

"Yeah, he did, and it was damn awkward, but just because you're hurt over a stupid high school crush is no reason to trash your love life like this!" Burt hollered, losing his temper.

For a very long moment, Kurt was still as an insulted cat. Puck couldn't figure out if he wanted to try his luck at hitting Burt for the look on Kurt's face, but then, he could sort of see the man's point. Not that it wasn't insulting to him, because Puck was pretty sure that Burt was talking about something like AIDS, and Puck was clean. Kurt turned to Puck and said calmly, "Noah, I'll see you at school tomorrow. We need to finish going over the dance moves before we pick out the music."

"Kurt," Burt tried, but Kurt turned and walked away without a backward glance, disappearing downstairs. For a long moment, there was silence, and then there was a horrendous crash and a shattering noise. Burt winced, and Puck didn't even need to ask because they both knew that the only thing that could've made that noise was Kurt trashing his girly vanity thing. Silence fell like thunder around the house, till Finn poked his head downstairs.

"What was that?" he asked, glancing around.

"Nothing," Puck supplied. Burt gave him a look, which Puck returned, and after a moment, Burt nodded.

"Yeah, it was nothin'. Go back upstairs." Finn gave Puck an odd, fixed look, but he retreated, which was good because Puck was tempted to tear his head off. Then he turned around and saw Burt staring at him. His eyes were shiny with raw emotion, and Puck just wanted to be _anywhere_ but here. "Look, kid, I don't know what's going on between you and my son, but I'm telling you now, he's in no shape to be making decisions for himself. I don't know whether you're the kinda guy who'd take advantage of someone like Kurt, but I swear to god, if you hurt my son, you're gonna be _begging_ me to kill you with your own car by the time I'm done with you."

"I'm not…I wouldn't…" Puck stammered, backing away.

"Good," Burt said softly. He glanced down at the floor, like he was trying to see with X-ray vision and check in on his son. "I get that you've got an assignment to work on, but next time, keep your god damn clothes on in my house, get me?"

"Yes sir," Puck said fervently.

"Oh, and…Puck, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Get the hell out of my house."

"Right, sir," he said smartly, and bolted for the door.

**888**

"How is he doing?" Puck asked softly, thinking to today and the look on Kurt's face when he'd fled the glee room like it was contagious.

"Not so good; but then, what'd you expect?" Quinn asked. "He actually wants to see you and talk to you, believe it or not. He just isn't sure what to say." She stood up, stretching as she moved toward her car. "Oh, and Puck? Just so you know, if you ever _did_ hurt him…" She gave him a small preview of the mystically powerful _I Can Kill You With My Mind_ stare that only women seemed to have (and Cheerios worst of all; rumor had it that Sue Sylvester had used that same stare to eliminate an entire team of competition during her college days).

"Right," he gulped.

"Go comfort him," Quinn commanded, turning to leave.

The thing was, Puck wasn't sure if he _could_ comfort him. He was so confused about what had happened today himself. And he knew that he had to confront what he was feeling…jealousy. And Noah Puckerman was not used to jealous. He was used to causing it. So it wasn't the easiest thing to get through when glee practice had rolled around this afternoon…

**888**

"So, guys," Mr. Schuester said excitedly. "How are all of your assignments going?" There were various nods of assent and happiness and bravado going around the room, though Kurt was silent. He'd come in late, and of course the only place left to sit was between Puck and Finn. Puck was sure that Finn had planned it that way, even though Puck had tried to rearrange, but no one seemed to understand why he wanted to change seats except Finn and Finn sure as hell wasn't budging.

Kurt shot Puck an almost desperate look as he said down between the two of them.

"You look good today, man," Finn complimented him.

"Thanks," Kurt said half-heartedly, and if not being enthused about being complimented on his wardrobe wasn't a sign of unhappiness in one Kurt Hummel Puck didn't know what was. But Finn had a point; Kurt no longer had to worry about dumpster dives so he was wearing some stain-worthy clothing – black slacks, and a white shirt with black buttons, and a white detective hat. He looked like a monochromatic detective from a film noir sitcom. It went surprisingly well with his complexion.

Things were not going smoothly in their house, and Puck knew that he was to blame; his advice to reach out to Finn meant that Kurt was suddenly having to confront whatever he was running from, and Puck could practically see all the old longing in Kurt's eyes when he looked at Finn, and damn if Finn wasn't encouraging him, and it was making Puck _pissed_ how scared Kurt looked – scared of getting hurt.

Puck just wanted Kurt to smirk at him again. So he volunteered them to sing a duet for Mr. Schuester when Schue wanted progress reports. Kurt had shot him a panicked look, but Puck had determinedly kept staring ahead. That's what glee was for, right? Getting it out in song so that it all turned out okay?

But then Mr. Schuester said that he'd heard a song on Kurt's iPod that he'd been listening to that he just _knew_ would go great with their voices, and when he told Kurt the title Kurt paled like a clam. But Puck had insisted, and so Kurt stood there, took a breath, and began, the band kicking in the dark, heavy beat behind him, and Puck felt the first genuine stirring of unease with his brilliant plan when Kurt had looked at him and then at Finn and then at the door like he just wanted to run.

_I was a heavy heart to carry_

_My beloved was weighed down_

_My hands around his neck_

_My fingers laced to crown_

_I was a heavy heart to carry_

_My feet dragged across the ground_

_And he took my to the river_

_Where he slowly let me drown_

_._

_My love has concrete feet; my love's an iron bar_

_Wrapped around your ankles, over the waterfall_

Kurt's fists clenched and Puck haplessly joined in on the chorus, their voices blending together more awkwardly than usual, because this was _Kurt's_ song and Puck was intruding on it. It was an awful feeling.

_**I'm so heavy**_

_**Heavy**_

_**So heavy in your arms**_

_**I'm so heavy**_

_**Heavy**_

_**So heavy in your arms**_

.

_And is it worth the wait—_

_All this killing time?_

_Are you strong enough to stand_

_Protecting both your heart and mine?_

_Who is the betrayer?_

_Who's the killer in the crowd?_

_The one who creeps in corridors and doesn't make a sound?_

_._

_My love has concrete feet; my love's an iron bar_

_Wrapped around your ankles, over the waterfall_

.

_**I'm so heavy**_

_**Heavy**_

_**So heavy in your arms**_

_**I'm so heavy**_

_**Heavy**_

_**So heavy in your arms**_

By now even Finn was looking uncomfortable; Rachel looked furious and Quinn and Mercedes looked like they were fighting the urge to stand up and drag Kurt into a hug as his voice climbed to a pitch that even _Puck_ couldn't believe he was reaching; Mr. Schuester was staring in a kind of shocked awe.

_This will be my last confession_

"_I love you" never felt like any blessing, oh_

_Whisper it like it's a secret_

_Only to condemn the one who hears it_

_With a heavy heart_

_._

_Oh_

_**Heavy, heavy**__ I'm so heavy in your arms!_

_**I'm so heavy, heavy**__ I'm so heavy in your arms!_

_._

_I was a heavy heart to carry!_

_My beloved was weighed down!_

_My arms around his neck!_

_My fingers laced to crown!_

_._

_I'm so heavy in your arms!_

Kurt's wail went on forever, unearthly and beautiful as he soared to the highest register then fell down again, looking like he'd just been run over with a truck. Puck could sympathize, and so, apparently, could Finn. Puck's eyes narrowed as Kurt trembled at the look Finn gave him.

"Kurt…what note was that?" Mr. Schuester asked softly.

"High…high G," Kurt whispered, as if realizing what Mr. Schuester was really asking.

"So that high F that you missed in 'Defying Gravity,' you're telling me that you could have easily hit it?" he continued, sounding almost angry. Kurt looked down, his entire body shaking. "Kurt, your father fought for that audition for you – I know that we didn't perform it at Sectionals, but it meant a lot to you and it could have made a difference!"

"Wait," Puck said, turning, looking at Kurt. Kurt met his eyes miserably. "You blew that?"

"Why?" Rachel demanded, standing up.

"Because, it's a _girl's_ song," Kurt grated out, looking like he was being fed through a food processor.

"Kurt…" Finn said softly, and that was all it took for Kurt to snap.

"Look, I'm _sorry_, but my _father_ had just gotten his first phone call telling him his son was a _faggot_, so _forgive_ me if I didn't want to sing a _girl's_ song in front of the damn school at the time!" Kurt yelled. He stormed forward and grabbed his bag, all but running out of the room, ignoring the fact that both Puck and Finn yelled "Wait!" at the same time before shooting each other glares.

"God, that was melodramatic," Rachel commented. Puck and Mercedes both made furious moves toward her as Finn stood up and got in Puck's face; Puck raised his fist as they both started yelling at each other about Kurt—

"Why can't you just leave him alone, Puck, do you have to ruin someone else's life too?" Finn snarled.

"Screw you, Hudson! The only reason he's this broke up in the first place is because of _you_!" Puck roared.

"He's _my_ friend and you aren't gonna turn him on me!"

Were they fighting about a friend? "He isn't _yours_, you piece of—"

"OKAY!" Mr. Schuester roared, louder than any of them had ever heard him. He looked more red in the face than he had that time he and Sylvester had lost it and tried to verbally kill each other in the auditorium. "You two need to _calm_ down!" He stepped in between them, shoving them back. "Finn, you and Rachel go and get some cold water. Puck, just…calm down. Mercedes, Quinn, could you see where Kurt's gone to, please?"

Before any of them could comply, Brittany clapped her hands. "I totally figured it out!" They all turned to stare at her despite themselves. "Rachel and Kurt hate each other because they're so much alike!"

"Brittany, if you were any slower you'd be going backwards," Santana said. Rachel's mouth worked like a fish, but nothing came out.

"This really never occurred to you, Rachel?" Quinn asked tiredly.

"I can go backwards," Brittany offered. "Do you guys wanna see me moonwalk?"

"Why don't you moonwalk from here to the bathroom and back again," Santana suggested.

"Okay!" Brittany said, jumping up. To her credit, she really did do a good moonwalk as she went out into the halls.

"Well, that'll keep her occupied for half an hour," Santana drawled.

"But the bathroom's only two minutes away," Tina said, confused.

"I never told her _which_ bathroom to go to. She'll try them all."

Mr. Schuester looked like he was going to start beating his head on the walls as his students filed out of the room, Puck and Finn shooting each other death glares.

**888**

And now here he was, walking into the Hummel house again. Thankfully, Burt wasn't anywhere in his line of vision, so Puck just sidled downstairs to the basement. Kurt was in a pair of sweats and an undershirt, and it just looked so _wrong_ on the fashionista that Puck was struck by how much he wanted to take _care_ of a Kurt that seemed so intensely breakable in that moment.

"Noah," Kurt gasped, looking up, and Puck saw the tears that had been rolling down his face. And apparently crying Kurt was like his kryptonite, because all of the anger and pain at Kurt's confusion over Finn just washed away. And Kurt didn't need to say anything else, because his eyes said it all. So Puck just sat next to him and let him bury his head into his chest and cry.

"Me too, Kurt. Me too."

After a while, the tears started to slow down. "God, I'd say sorry for ruining your shirt but there's not much left to ruin," Kurt commented, and Puck chuckled, his throat raw. Okay, so maybe he'd been screaming into his truck cab on the way over. God, if he could just get his hands on Finn's stupid face…

"I really hate that song."

"No you don't; you love that song. It's on the top of your shuffle list," Puck reminded him.

"You suck," Kurt glared.

"We haven't even screwed yet. You don't know what I do in bed," Puck said, thrusting upward. Kurt laughed and jerked away from him, and Puck just fell to tickling him. Because laughing Kurt was so much better than crying Kurt, and Kurt didn't laugh like this when Finn was in the room. If he could, Puck would whitewash Finn out of Kurt's mind. It really occurred to him then how screwed he was; he was in this bet thing way too deep and there was no digging his way out of it.

Of course, that was when Kurt stood up and announced, "I know what we're doing for our presentation!"

"What?" Puck asked trepidatiously.

"_Gaga_," Kurt said, his eyes glowing. That alone was enough to make Puck's stomach drop. But then Kurt showed him the costume designs. And the set designs. And the song list…_Oh, shit._

**Songs used in this chapter were:**

"**I Am Music" by Timbaland, Playa and Aaliyah. I love Aaliyah; she was like the only hip-hop artist in the last twenty years who retained her dignity; her music was amazing. They're apparently making a biopic about her next year and releasing a final posthumous album with more new music. This track I got off the "Ultimate Aaliyah" best-of album.**

"**Superfabulous" by BT featuring Rose McGowan. Rose McGowan needs to put out a solo album; she has a sexy club voice. This song I first heard off the third **_**Charmed**_** soundtrack. I totally thought of Chris Colfer doing this song and I was like, guh.**

"**Heavy in Your Arms" by Florence + the Machine from the Twilight/Eclipse soundtrack. I love the books. I despise the movies (the second one was better than the first. I'm holding judgment on this new one till I see it). But the movies all have kickass soundtracks. This song is just…oh, listen to it, I beg you.**

**A/N:** There – like 8 pages longer than what you normally get from me and enough meat to supply a restaurant! I don't know when I'll be updating again, but it shouldn't be too long. Once more, with feeling, thank you so much for your reviews and for just reading this. Till next time!


	8. 8 Porcelain

**A/N:** Oh, my, it's been a little bit! I'm sorry that I've been keeping you hanging for a little bit, but between my new job and a seriously messed up sleeping schedule at the moment, I'm a little bit off lately. I kind of like this chapter, however, and it's going to be a bit longer, so hopefully you guys'll be okay with it.

Once again, I want to thank you guys so much for all of the reviews and advice and encouragement; thank you so much and I hope that you continue to enjoy this story.

**Oh, and, just to be clear, I did _not_ come up with the term "Hummelsexual;" it's been floating around in fandom for a while and if anyone knows who coined it I'll give them credit. It just totally fit into a scene. And I kind of love it.**

Song Guide:

Underlined lyrics = Quinn singing

_Italicized lyrics_ = regular lyrics (no character is singing); Puck singing (when mentioned in the scene)

**Bold lyrics** = Kurt singing

**Bold and Underlined** = Kurt/Quinn duet

_**Bold and Italics**_ = Kurt/Puck duet

With all of that out of the way:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

Chapter 8: Porcelain

Puck woke up to find an amused smirk on Kurt's face. Maybe he was still dreaming? When he tried to roll over, Kurt poked him with something sharp. "Hey!" Puck protested, rolling over.

"You're drooling all over your leather jacket, idiot," Kurt said, sounding almost…fond.

"Blech," Puck muttered, sitting up. His movement startled Kurt, who lost his balance and yelped, tumbling over to land in Puck's lap. Just the _feel_ of Kurt's unreasonably warm skin against Puck's morning wood was enough to make Puck moan softly. Kurt froze, blushing extravagantly. Puck decided that he fiercely _loved_ making Kurt blush. The smaller boy was so damn pale that when he flushed he turned the color of a rose. Kurt's eyes were large and the color of the sky, his lips full and wet…

Kurt's small, soft, hand drifted up slowly, his thumb lightly wiping away the dried saliva from Puck's face. When their eyes locked, Kurt didn't look away. The basement was silent but for their harsh breathing; Puck could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears as he cupped the side of Kurt's face. Kurt was shaking. He reminded Puck so strongly of a porcelain doll – so strong and cold, and so easily broken. Kurt was starting to trust him, but…

Puck sighed and brushed his lips over Kurt's cheek, and Kurt pulled back, breaking the moment. Puck's favorite smirk was back in place, and he knew that he'd made the right choice. "You'd better shower and get changed, before my dad gets the wrong idea, Noah," Kurt said playfully.

"Gee – someone getting the wrong idea from _this_ outfit? Nah!" Puck said, gesturing indignantly at his costume. They both looked at each other, startled at how Kurt-like the sarcastic comment had been. Puck blinked. Kurt grinned, suddenly and moved down, brushing his lips over Puck's cheek, sending tingles racing through his skin.

"You look _good_," Kurt commented. "After all, _I'm_ dressing you. Now get in the shower; I'm making breakfast." It wasn't until Kurt had already flounced out of the basement that Puck realized he looked like his old self again – head to toe in designer clothes. A stupid grin on his face, Puck flopped back on the couch. "And _don't_ go back to sleep!" Kurt called out waspishly from the top of the stairs. Puck maintained that the smile on his face wasn't sappy and moronic as he stripped his complicated costume off and headed for the bathroom.

As the water hit him, Puck contemplated how totally screwed he was. It wasn't the first time this month that he'd had this thought, and he had a funny feeling that it wouldn't be the last. He'd walked into this stupid bet with an eye toward conquest, and now…Puck hadn't really felt like this before – like Hallmark channel and shit (and he knew that Kurt would _never_ admit to his secret passion for sappy Hallmark and Lifetime romance flicks). He wanted to be with Kurt all the time, wanted to hear his voice and see that smirk and listen to him sing. For the first time since Quinn and he had monumentally screwed up, Puck felt like something in his life was going kind of good.

Sure, so most of the other glee club kids thought he was going to screw Kurt over, he'd somehow acquired Quinn as a hellishly scary older sister, Finn was more pissed at him than ever, Burt Hummel was the scariest man on the face of the earth, most of the school thought he was a total fag, he hadn't had sex of any kind in like three weeks, and Santana looked like she was trying to turn her rage into a physical weapon of mass destruction every time she laid eyes on him or Kurt or both. But despite all of that, somehow, whenever Kurt helped him out of the dumpster or washed slushie from his face, Puck felt miles better about himself. And if he had to jump some of the offending idiots after school and teach them a lesson, well, Kurt didn't need to know that. Puck wouldn't trade the look on Kurt's face when Puck's truck hit his driveway for anything.

Thinking about this past week, Puck was smiling more than ever.

**888**

From the moment that Kurt had broken down in his arms, they'd been practically inseparable. Puck spent every weekday afternoon at Kurt's house, where they would sing, dance, and rehearse for the competition (that's what Kurt called it; Puck figured Kurt's dreams of stomping one Rachel Berry into the dust was fuelling some of the awesomeness that was their performance), and watch movies (Puck did _not_ tear up at _Rent_ or _Brokeback Mountain_, thanks), TV (he did enjoy turning Kurt on to _True Blood_ ("Damn you," Kurt seethed as Puck drove him to the DVD store); the fact that Kurt forced him to sit through _The Vampire Diaries_ as vengeance left him unamused), and pick through each other's iPods (there was something ridiculously sexy about watching Kurt reenact the "One Way or Another" scene from _Coyote Ugly_ and then rock out to "Enter Sandman"; Puck came to acknowledge that _Les Miz_ was freaking depressing and that _Wicked_ wasn't that bad).

Puck usually got unceremoniously booted from the basement by Quinn and Mercedes for a few hours while they worked on Quinn's ultra top secret plan. It was the second time that this happened that Puck found himself alone in the living room with Burt Hummel.

"So, you're Puck," Burt said after a moment.

"Um. Yeah." Puck scuffed the ground with his shoe.

"Your truck sounds awful," Burt observed. "How long has it been since you took it to a mechanic?"

"Um," said Puck intelligently. Burt's eyes rolled heavenward in a move so eerily reminiscent of his son that Puck had to stifle a startled laugh. He had this idea in his gut that laughing at this guy was one of those really bad things his mom was trying to drill into his head.

"My show isn't on for two more hours. Pull your truck into the garage out back," Burt suggested. Puck nodded and hurried to do the man's bidding. Behind the Hummel residence was a two-car garage that was kept spotlessly clean, with a few workbenches filled with shiny tools. Bur had thrown on a pair of grease-stained coveralls, and he had puck jack his truck up as he went to get rags and a bucket, muttering to himself about his only son riding around in a death trap. Puck would have been offended if he weren't so busy being afraid for his life. He prayed fervently that Mr. Hummel had never figured out the identity of the vandals who'd nailed his lawn furniture to his roof.

Burt gestured for Puck to crawl beneath his truck. For a moment, all Puck saw was Burt's boots. "Son, do you have an idea how easy it'd be for me to knock this truck off the jacks right now?" _Holy shit!_ Puck was shaking like a leaf in the wind. _Don't pee yourself…don't pee yourself…_

"Um…yes, sir…"

"Good," Burt grunted. Then he crawled down next to Puck and taught him how to perform an oil change. Burt hadn't needed to say anything else. Puck hadn't ever talked to Kurt about it. Quinn, for her part, had laughed at him mercilessly, and proceeded to ignore his questions about what Kurt was helping her with.

Which wasn't to say that that was the only time Kurt and Quinn spent together; Quinn had adopted Kurt into her growing tribe of devoted menfolk (population: Kurt, Puck, Mike, Matt, Artie, Mr. Schue, and Burt, who was putty in Quinn's hands), and Kurt had devoted both his and Mercedes' (who tolerated Puck, to some extent) help in giving Quinn a makeover. Quinn was blossoming – singing more solos in glee, laughing in the halls. She was getting her groove back, and was very rarely bothered in the halls at school. In fact, to Puck's knowledge, the only real source of unhappiness in Quinn's life at the moment was her relationship with Finn. But then, Finn was being really weird.

Every time Finn saw Kurt, he stiffened, and then alternated between looking hurt at Kurt's lack of attention or looking pissed off and growly. He never talked to Puck at all, and Quinn elicited the same reaction fro Finn that Kurt got (which Puck knew for a fact was hurting both of their feelings and it was starting to really piss him off (and it freaking _bugged_ him how Kurt still got over Finn, damn it)). Even Rachel was starting to look fairly sad by Finn's side in the halls. It had all come to a head when Finn and Rachel were going home on Friday afternoon, just when Puck was getting there.

"Noah! You're here again?" Rachel asked, sounding far too chipper, even for her. "You and Kurt must be working really hard!"

"Yeah," Finn said irritably. "He lives here now, apparently."

And, okay, Puck was just getting tired of Finn's little potshots at him, and his fists clenched, till there was a squeal of hysterical laughter from inside. Bewildered, Rachel opened the door, and all three of them peaked inside.

"Put that back immediately, you ex-pregnoid cow!" Kurt yelped as Quinn lifted a box above his head. She, Mercedes and Kurt were in the living room; Mercedes was on the couch, laughing her head off, while Quinn was standing on the coffee table and holding a large wooden box out of Kurt's reach.

"Ow, that almost stung, queen!" Quinn sneered. "Seriously, though, Kurt – _Hilary Duff?_"

"It was a gift!" Kurt protested, flushing.

"False lies!" Quinn sang out happily. "It was in your _hope_ chest! Tactless faggotry!" she accused, cackling.

"Well, at least I'm not alone, blondie," Kurt accused. "I've seen "Come Clean" on your iPod!"

"One song," Quinn said dismissively.

"You have the song and three remixes of it," Kurt pointed out venomously.

"White people," Mercedes snorted.

"I hope our kettle doesn't make you too black, pot, you _That's So Raven_ fan!" Quinn shrieked.

"_That's So Raven_? Mercedes," Kurt sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, you listen to Miley Cyrus," Mercedes rejoined evilly.

"One song! One freaking song on my iPod, and I never hear the end of it!"

"Which one?" Quinn asked curiously. "Because if you say "Party in the USA", I'm outta here—"

""Can't Be Tamed,"" Puck supplied helpfully.

"Her 'I'm a skankoid _ho_' anthem?" Quinn squealed merrily. "Kurt!"

"Thanks a _lot_ for _that_ one, stool pigeon!" Kurt snapped, glaring evilly in Puck's direction. "And, hello, people in my living room." Then he stiffened. "Bitch, step _away_ from my stereo system." He pointed his finger imperiously in Quinn's direction.

"Bitch, please," she snorted, waving away is indignity with a laugh. "Don't _think_ you're getting out of singing with me!"

"I, for one, would _love_ to hear your take on an early 2000's pop staple," Rachel declared, dragging a protesting Finn toward the couch. "Hilary Duff may be universally mocked amongst teenagers of our generation but her use of the Disney Channel to launch a successful music career built on a good clean image to counteract the downfall of Britney Spears was actually a fairly innovative use of pop culture."

"Right," Mercedes said, dragging out a nail file.

"Uh huh," Puck agreed, sitting next to Mercedes. She shot him a _look_, and he scooted further away from her. She grunted her approval as the music kicked on. Kurt shot Quinn a long-suffering sigh and then allowed himself to be dragged to his feet as she danced in ridiculously overdrawn barely-past-the-'90's moves that Puck had previously believed that only Mr. Schuester could come up with while doing wretched '90's white boy rap.

You can change your mind

**If you wanna**

You can change your clothes

**If you wanna**

You can change your mind

Well, that's the way it goes

But I'm gonna keep your jeans

And your old black hat

**Cuz I wanna**

They look good on me – you're never gonna get them back

At least not today

**Not today**

**Not today, cuz**

**If it's over, let it go and**

**Come tomorrow, it will seem**

**So yesterday, so yesterday**

**I'm just a bird that's already blown away**

**Laugh it off, and let it go and**

**When you wake up, it'll seem**

**So yesterday, so yesterday—**

**Haven't you heard that I'm gonna be okay?**

Okay

Kurt swanned around in his worst possible princess imitation as he took over the verse. Puck, for his part, was more entertained than he'd thought he'd be, but he was also busy watching Finn, whose fists were clenching as Quinn and Kurt danced together like brother and sister (and really, sometimes they spoke in unison and referred to each other as untwins. When this happened, Puck steered clear, because they were eerily psychic and it was just uncomfortable). The lyrics Kurt was singing probably weren't helping, either.

**You can say you're bored**

If you wanna

**You can act real tough**

If you wanna

**You can say you're torn**

**But I've heard enough**

**Thank you, you made my mind up for me**

**When you started to ignore me**

**Do you see a single tear?**

**It isn't gonna happen here**

**At least not today**

Not today

**Not today, cuz**

**If it's over, let it go and**

**Come tomorrow, and it will seem**

**So yesterday, so yesterday**

**I'm just a bird that's already flown away**

**Laugh it off, and let it go and**

**When you wake up, it will seem**

**So yesterday, so yesterday**

**Haven't you heard that I'm gonna be okay?**

Quinn and Kurt moved into an elaborate waltz, trading off the lines with an ease so synchronized it seemed practiced, which was just making it more enjoyable. And apparently making Finn more uncomfortable, if the look on his face was anything to go by. Puck shrugged.

If you're over me**, I'm already over you**

If it's all been done, **what is left to do?**

How can you hang up **if the line is dead?**

If you wanna walk **I'm a step ahead**

If you're moving on **I'm already gone**

If the line is off** then it isn't on!**

At least not today

**Not today**

**Not today, cuz**

**If it's over, let it go and**

**Come tomorrow and it'll seem**

**So yesterday, so yesterday**

**I'm just a bird that's already flown away**

**Laugh it off, and let it go and**

**When you wake up it'll seem**

**So yesterday, so yesterday**

**Haven't you heard**

**If it's over, let it go and**

**Come tomorrow, and it'll seem**

So yesterday, so yesterday

**I'm just a bird that's already flown away**

**Laugh it off, and let it go and**

**When you wake up, it'll seem**

**So yesterday, so yesterday**

Haven't you heard that I'm gonna be okay?

Laughing like kids on a sugar rush, Quinn and Kurt turned and took a big bow. Rachel clapped enthusiastically while Mercedes coughed something about white people and geeks into the couch cushions. Puck settled for laughing at them. He hadn't seen Quinn so happy in a while, and Kurt…Puck caught Kurt's eye and Kurt stuck his tongue out at him, and Puck smirked.

"That was really very good, Quinn," Rachel said, standing up. "Your vocal range is expanding dramatically from where you were when you first joined glee club under the guise of destroying it from the inside."

"Um…from you, Rachel, I'll take that as an extravagant compliment," Quinn said after a moment. Rachel nodded magnanimously.

"Yeah, that was fantastic," Finn snapped, his face red and surly.

"Dude," Puck complained. "It was good."

"Whatever," Finn said irritably, and without a backward glance or a word for Rachel he stormed out of the living room, stomping his way upstairs with all the drama they usually associated with Rachel (or, briefly, Jesse St. James (Puck suppressed vomit at the memories)).

"I'm very sorry," Rachel said, and Puck turned to stare at her.

"Don't apologize for him," he said after a moment, his heart pounding, and before he could question what he was doing (or call himself a total pussy for doing it) Puck had grabbed hold of Rachel's hand and was dragging her, protesting, straight up the stairs to the office where Finn was staying. He threw open the door without bothering to knock. "What the hell is up _your_ ass, dude?"

"Screw you, Puck," Finn said, not even looking up. His face was red, and he was laying on his futon and staring at the ceiling. "You go back on and celebrate everyone screwing me over; you're good at that."

"I don't deserve that," Puck told him flatly. Finn gave him a look of disbelief. "You know what, Finn? I screwed up. I screwed up real bad, but I _tried_ to make things better and you won't let me. It's over – Quinn and I aren't together, the baby's _gone_, and whatever happened between you and Kurt, it's pretty damn obvious he still cares about you…" And Puck tried really hard to not hear the bitterness dripping in his voice. "So don't sit there and give me that damn martyr act over one stupid song!"

"You were listening to the lyrics!" Finn insisted. "Why do you think they sang that damn song in front of us?"

"Maybe, for once, you could stop making this about _you_ and figure out that the rest of us are trying to move on from all the drama that seems to follow _you_ around," Puck snarled. Finn jerked up, his fists clenching, but Puck didn't even care. "And, by the way, treating Rachel like shit in front of us? Class, dude." Without waiting for a response, Puck slammed the door in Finn's face and dragged Rachel back down the stairs. She looked like she was about to start sobbing.

"Puck?" Kurt questioned softly. The festive air had vanished from the living room, and Puck wanted it back. Kurt was staring questioningly at Rachel, whose head was down.

"We're celebrating Jewish solidarity," Puck said, keeping hold of Rachel's hand. "Let's go down to the basement and break Kurt's karaoke machine."

"If you so much as _attempt_ anything from _Phantom_ and shatter my windows, Berry, you will pay," Kurt warned her without missing a beat. He sent a warm smile in Puck's direction at the thankful look in Puck's eyes, a silent exchange that they were getting better and better at. Rachel gave Kurt a small, grateful smile, and then they were all heading downstairs. Puck didn't hear a sound from Finn's room for a long, long time.

**888**

A few hours later, once they were all sweaty from too much singing, too much dancing, and _way_ too much caffeine, Burt and Carole came downstairs to find them in the middle of a cuddle puddle. Puck had never participated in one of these, and Quinn and Kurt had excitedly dragged him into the middle of it. It was actually nice; they'd thrown a few blankets down on the ground despite the heat and just snuggled into each other like a bunch of puppies while soft music played in the background. Even Rachel had shut up for once. Puck thought that his head might have been on her thigh, but he couldn't be sure.

"Um," Burt said after a moment from the foot of the stairs.

"Hi, dad," Kurt said lazily from somewhere in the pile of teenagers. Puck's hand was holding his, so he knew Kurt couldn't be that far away. Kurt's fingers lazily traced patterns on Puck's hands, and Puck wasn't inclined to pull away. "We're having a sleepover tonight. I hope you have breakfast food, because we're getting pizza for dinner tonight."

"A sleepover?" Burt repeated skeptically. "I don't know that I'm really comfortable with that, Kurt…"

"Dad, I'm surrounded by females," Kurt yawned.

"Well, the last time you were down here with a girl…" Burt trailed off awkwardly.

"Oh, Mr. Hummel," Quinn protested softly from around the vicinity of Mercedes' stomach, "what on earth would Kurt do down here with a _girl_?"

"He walked in on me making out with Brittany," Kurt explained off-handedly.

"Wait – what?" Puck asked, confusion and…jealousy? eating through his Zen.

"Oh, please," Quinn chuckled. "If you think your son making out with Brittany is a heterosexual crisis, don't bother; _everyone's_ made out with Brittany. _I've_ made out with Brittany."

"You have too?" Rachel asked mournfully.

"This conversation is getting awkward real quick," Mercedes interjected, though she didn't sound too bothered by it all. "I thought that you two were straight, anyway."

"I happen to be heteroflexible," Quinn explained happily.

"What now?" Carole asked, confused.

"I'm straight, but shit happens," Quinn elaborated.

"I have two gay dads," Rachel reminded them all. "Having only kissed Finn, Jesse, and Noah, it seemed perfectly logical to see if a girl would better suit me after my heartbreaking…heartbreaks. But a diva must move on."

"You tell 'em," Kurt muttered, tickling Puck's palm. "Santana, on the other hand, is just about ready to hop aboard the Good Ship Lesbian and sail away to the happy Sapphic islands for Brittany – they're just too stupid to realize."

"And then there's Puck, who's just Hummelsexual," Mercedes commented.

"Puck's what now?" Burt asked, sounding like he was choking.

"Noah only feels homosexual urges toward your son," Rachel particularized. "On the Kinsey Scale of homosexuality, while Kurt would fall toward a ten, Noah would land more at two or three. It isn't so uncommon for a natural heterosexual to have semi-bisexual feelings toward one member of the same sex. I, for instance, still have a tingling sensation in my pubic area when I hear Sarah Brightman perform "The Point of No Return" with Michael Crawford in the original Broadway performance of _The Phantom of the Opera_."

"Buh," Burt and Carole said together.

"I know it's sacrilegious, but, honestly, although Broadway is better in all things, I felt more dramatically moved during Emmy Rossum and Gerard Butler's duet of "The Point of No Return" during the movie version of _Phantom_," Kurt said absently. "It felt far more sexually charged."

"Please tell me you're being facetious," Rachel begged, but there wasn't much drama behind the words (Puck had checked out of the conversation at about _Hummelsexual_ and was still busy puzzling it out).

"My, but we _are_ being loquacious tonight, aren't we?" Quinn asked.

"The day that I allow any of you to study for the vocabulary part of the SAT's around me is the day that I come into school dressed in flannel," Mercedes vowed.

"You love us anyway," Kurt countered.

"Puck…my son…is there anyone here that boy _hasn't_ put his hands on?" Burt thundered.

"No, actually," Kurt said dismissively. "First he had sex with Quinn and fathered a child upon her—"

"I was drunk and felt fat at the time," Quinn interjected.

"And also president of the Celibacy Club, a now defunct organization," Kurt said indolently. "Failure."

"Oh, go give your father grandchildren through natural means, why don't you," Quinn fired back with a fond smile on her face as she stroked through Kurt's hair.

"In any case," Rachel continued, "while I was in love with Finn and Finn was still with Quinn, Noah and I began a brief flirtation in which we shared several passionate kisses, until he was slushied in the face by one of the football ignoramuses that populate the halls of our sad school, at which point we salvaged ourselves and moved on."

"I never kissed him," Mercedes cut in. "I just publicly dated him to boost our popularity. It wasn't one of my high moments."

"We did so kiss," Puck cut in.

"We agreed that it didn't count."

"Tongue or no tongue?" Quinn and Kurt asked in that eerie unison.

"No tongue whatsoever," Mercedes said glumly.

"From Noah Puckerman? Doesn't count as a kiss," Quinn said decisively.

"And besides, I haven't kissed Puck yet," Kurt continued.

"Yet?" Burt asked, sounding weak at the knees.

"He grows on you like black mold that cannot be washed away," Kurt said lazily.

"If I felt like moving, I'd be giving you a noogie for that," Puck warned.

"Blah blah blah," Kurt said, blasé.

"Mr. Hummel," Quinn said, her voice taking on that sweet, candied tone that Puck distrusted. Burt was already staring at her weakly as she tilted her head up to catch him with her doe-like blue eyes. "I'll sleep in Kurt's bed with him as a chastity guard." She gave him her million-dollar smile, and he was already melting. "And besides, Rachel is sleeping down here with us so there won't be any shenanigans in Finn's bedroom."

"I'm a perfectly reasonable girl capable of making her own decisions—"

"Rachel, though we bicker and war with each other – and rightly so – I respect you too much to allow your first time to be on a futon," Kurt said flatly. "You're sleeping down here with us."

"Okay," Rachel acquiesced.

"We're going upstairs," Burt announced weakly.

"We love you, Mr. Hummel," Puck said sweetly. Burt growled something that sounded vaguely threatening in his direction, but really, he was far too confused to say much else. Carole was making noises about the scotch cupboard.

"Did we break them?" Kurt asked, not sounding at all repentant.

"I say we have a farting contest," Puck announced.

"Please, honey," Mercedes said. She stretched lightly and a horrendous burst of thunderous flatulence exploded from her; the smell was so vile that it had them all barricading themselves in Kurt's bathroom where the air freshener lived.

"Have I mentioned I hate you for having this in your _bedroom_," Quinn sighed, glancing at the gloriously white bathroom.

"How the hell—" Puck began, glaring in Mercedes' direction, but she just laughed.

"I have three brothers. You learn these things. Besides, that was kind of revenge for Quinn's pregnancy gas. Ew."

"Give me a break! I had _Puck's_ baby punching my bowels enthusiastically with thunder fists from hell!" Quinn huffed.

"Keep telling yourself that, dear," Kurt said absently.

"Is that the newest issue of _Broadway Weekly_?" Rachel asked, excited, as she sifted through Kurt's bathroom reading material (kept OCD-neat in a dark wooden basket that matched the décor, of course). Kurt nodded and sat down on the edge of the bathtub, still holding Puck's hands. And, well, if neither of them moved their hands away as they waited for the smell to dissipate, that was neither here nor there.

Quinn just smiled.

**888**

That night, they stayed up late into the night, discussing glee club, their projects – Rachel and Matt were working together ("He's surprisingly almost as adept as Mike at dancing; I suppose since they are best friends they practice together. He's added some wonderful moves to our routine…" She was baiting Kurt, of course, but they were all being so civil to each other that nobody called her on it), Mercedes was paired with Finn ("If there's a Rachel Berry gold star in depressed, he's earned it," she huffed, "so of _course_ if I want this to be good at all we have to do depressing music." Kurt looked away, but he flushed gratefully when Puck squeezed his hand, and that made Puck feel all kinds of good in his belly), Quinn was once more with Artie ("I just love how original he makes things. You guys will never guess what we're working on," she said happily as Kurt gave her a selection of nail polish to choose from), and Puck followed Kurt's leave in avoiding all questions about what they were going to do.

Puck got the distinct feeling that this was the most fun Rachel had had in years, and he and the others never called her on it when she started to get tiresome. They also didn't mention it when Finn never came downstairs to check on her. They played card games (Mercedes hustled everyone's money out of them at Texas Hold 'Em, until Puck deviously won it all back in five card draw poker) and Kurt tearfully agreed to allow Rachel to play his prized Hungry Hungry Hippos game until they were all throwing marbles at each other. They popped popcorn and played DDR and karaoke until Burt yelled at them all to shut up.

Puck listened as Kurt and Quinn insulted each other mercilessly, awed.

"You're so gay," she said flatly.

"You're just pissed because I won't spring for another tube of that lovely moisturizer I gave you a week ago that was supposed to last you a _month_, stupid bitch," he threw back.

"Glittery fairy!"

"As if _I_ would be so gauche as to wear _glitter_," he returned scornfully. "Don't hate on me because you got stuck in Gaga's orbital dress to hide your lump!"

"At least I didn't look like a reject from the "Just Dance" music video, faggot," she said, carding her hands through his hair.

"No, you just looked like the divine cow." They both giggled and hugged each other as he picked out her nail polish color ("to accentuate your pretty eyes, of course").

"How are you two friends?" Puck asked, nonplussed.

"Oh, _Noah_," Kurt, Quinn, Rachel and Mercedes huffed in that creepy unison thing. "You're such a _boy_."

And, really, Puck left it alone at that.

They ended up passing out to _Romeo + Juliet_, though not before Puck let Kurt know that he thought it was sexy that Kurt knew all of Juliet's lines. Surprisingly, a thoughtful expression passed over Kurt's face, and he slipped his hand in Puck's, something he'd been doing all week that Puck found himself kind of…loving. In a really, really gay way. _Hummelsexual – I could live with that._

"It was my mom's favorite play. That's…she _knew_, you know? I was always looking for my Romeo, and…I just understood Juliet. After she…went to the hospital, I went out to the backyard and performed Juliet's death scene, to sort of calm myself down, and my dad screamed at me for it. He still feels bad about it, to this day, and I know he didn't mean anything by it, he just…He tries, Noah. He tries. And I love him so much. But sometimes I feel like Juliet at the end, when she's alone."

"My middle school English teacher made me perform every single one of Puck's lines out of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ just because of my name," Puck said, snuggling closer. Kurt buried his smile against Puck's shirt, and Puck didn't say anything about the wet patch he left behind when Quinn stopped the movie and made them all get into proper beds (mother hen, he thought fondly).

Quinn and Kurt snuggled together in Kurt's bed while Mercedes and Rachel shared the foldout couch ("If you spoon me, I will cut you in my sleep," Mercedes said flatly. Rachel's eyes went wide and she moved to the other side of the couch. Naturally, ten minutes after Mercedes passed out, she was spooning Rachel's back. Rachel shot a longsuffering sigh in Puck's direction), while Puck curled up in a nest of blankets at the foot of Kurt's bed, like a guard dog.

**888**

That next morning, Finn had been as surly as ever at the breakfast table, but before Rachel could get too depressed, Puck had strongly suggested cheery '90's music. Quinn enthusiastically agreed. Burt and Carole watched, bemused, as the half-awake teenagers staggered upstairs, the girls taking the backing chorus as Puck started the verse:

_**Do do do, do do do do, do do do, do do do do**_

_**Do do do, do do do do, do do do, do do do do**_

_I'm packed and I'm holding,  
I'm smiling, she's living, she's golden and  
she lives for me, She says she lives for me,  
Ovation, She's got her own motivation,  
she comes round and she goes down on me,  
And I make her smile, It's like a drug for you,  
Do ever what you want to do,  
Coming over you,  
Keep on smiling,  
what we go through.  
One stop to the rhythm that divides you,  
And I speak to you like the chorus to the verse,  
Chop another line like a coda with a curse,  
And I come on like a freak show takes the stage.  
We give them the games we play, she said_

And Quinn sashayed to the front, taking front and center as she belted out:

I want something else, to get me through this

Semi-charmed kinda life, baby, baby

I want something else

I'm not listening when you say

Goodbye!

Cackling madly, the girls said thank you to Burt and Carole and left to do girly things at the spa. Burt gave Puck a warning glare but Kurt had simply said, "Noah's staying for a bit." Carole touched Burt's arm, and in the end, Burt agreed (and Finn stalked upstairs without another word). Kurt sighed and went downstairs, and Puck followed, bothered at how bothered Kurt was over Finn.

"Noah…can we be guys this weekend, really? No singing. Just…teach me how to blow stuff up on the TV," Kurt said softly. And he didn't really have to explain it any further than that. Puck had driven home to tell his mom where he was and grab his PlayStation, and that was how the weekend went: they played _Medal of Honor_ and _Grand Theft Auto_ and _Call of Duty_, watched _Die Hard_, and told insanely off-color jokes (after Puck cracked a few Jew jokes, Kurt revealed a shocking wealth of Helen Keller jokes that had Puck rolling on the floor).

It was the best weekend of Puck's life, and he'd almost forgotten about the damn competition until Kurt reminded him that it was going to start next Wednesday. But even that hadn't bothered him. He just hung out with Kurt.

**888**

As he finally stepped out of the shower, Puck threw some clothes on and grinned as he went upstairs, hearing _The Beach_ soundtrack playing out of Kurt's radio in the kitchen as Kurt cooked Puck's favorite style of pancakes (Puck couldn't cook for the world, but the moment he'd told Kurt his favorite breakfast was pancakes ("You know, the special ones with fruit and chocolate and stuff in 'em") Kurt had lit up like Christmas and said he hadn't cooked a great breakfast feast since his mother had passed). Puck stopped and just grinned like an idiot as Moby sang softly:

_In my dreams I'm dying all the time  
When I wake its kaleidoscopic mind  
I never meant to hurt you  
I never meant to lie  
So this is goodbye  
This is goodbye_

"Admit it – the only thing you like about that movie is Leonardo DiCaprio's naked ass," Puck accused, sitting down at the table as Kurt glared at him, flipping apple-cinnamon pancakes onto a plate. Burt and Carole both sniggered into their newspapers at the comment, and Puck breathed a sigh of relief that Burt seemed to finally be warming up to him.

"That movie, I'll have you know, was a good piece of 1990's cinema," Kurt protested. All three of them shot him disbelieving looks over the syrup. "Fine, you jerks. But just so you realize, _everyone_ had a crush on Leonardo DiCaprio back then. Even _straight_ guys had mancrushes on Leo!"

"Can we _not_ talk about this?" Finn snapped irritably.

And just like that, the peace of the weekend was broken. Kurt stiffened, the open, unguarded expression on his face vanishing behind a façade of ice as he said softly, "Sure." He sat down gingerly at the table, not bothering to serve himself a pancake. Puck had never wanted to hit Finn so badly in his life.

"Finn," Carole snapped, but Finn wasn't looking at her.

"These are damn good pancakes," Puck said flatly, running his foot over Kurt's under the table. Kurt shot him a small smile, but his defenses were up. He didn't play footsie back. Puck chose to take it as a small sign of goodness that Kurt didn't move his foot _away_.

"Yes, they are," Burt put in, taking a big bite.

"I'm heading to school," Finn said without eating, and all but abandoned the table.

"Do you want to ride with me today?" Puck asked Kurt softly.

"I'll be fine on my own," Kurt said simply. "I'd better get ready." And just like that, Kurt was cold and aloof and Puck was back out of the picture. Burt gave him a look of…pity? Like he knew exactly how it felt to be shut out of Kurt's emotions, just like that.

Puck _really_ wanted to hit something.

But the pancakes were damn good.

**888**

Kurt had avoided him all day – well, everyone, for that matter. Puck found himself growing frantic. It had been such a good weekend, until freaking Finn had to go and be a bastard, and suddenly warm, open, caring Kurt was back to ice prince Hummel and Puck didn't have a clue how to get through all of the emotional walls that Kurt put up to protect himself. Walls that he and his bullying helped to put in place.

Shit. Screw introspection; he wanted Kurt back the way he was and when Puck set his mind to something, he got it. When Kurt skipped lunch that day, Puck had an idea where he was. But so did Mr. Schuester, apparently – they were both in the choir room. "I know you don't want to talk to me, Kurt, but you could always sing. It helps, even as hokey as it sounds."

"Can…can I use the piano?" Kurt asked, sounding so small, so beaten down, that Puck had a sudden mental image of running Finn over in his car.

"Do you want me to leave?" Mr. Schue asked softly.

"Please, don't," Kurt said.

"Alright." Puck peaked in through the crack in the door and watched as Mr. Schuester took a seat and listened attentively as Kurt slowly drifted his hands over the keys, and began playing a haunting melody.

**Why do they leave me all by myself?**

**Why do they use me and break me down?**

**Why do they hurt me? Why do they leave me?**

**Why doesn't anybody stick around?**

**.**

**Why doesn't anyone stay here?**

**Why do they leave me?**

**Don't they realize I'm a porcelain doll?**

**Small, unsure, beautiful, breakable?**

**.**

**If I sit here waiting to be wanted**

**Something good will pass me by**

**Many people look through the windows**

**But seldom do they ever look in my eyes**

**.**

**Why doesn't anyone stay here?**

**Why do they leave me?**

**Don't they realize I'm a porcelain doll?**

**Fragile, helpless, unwanted, breakable?**

**.**

**They can't tell that I am sweet**

**They can' tell I'm like a porcelain doll**

**Beautiful and demure**

**But played with one too many times**

**.**

**Why am I not numb to this?**

**Why can't I let it all outside my mind?**

**Don't let me sit here, collecting dust—**

**But please, be careful, please, be kind**

**.**

**Why doesn't anyone stay here?**

**Why do they leave me?**

**Don't they realize I'm a porcelain doll?**

**Lost, alone, unsure, kind, demure**

**Small, fragile, helpless**

**Breakable**

**Breakable**

For a long moment, there was silence. "That was beautiful, Kurt," Mr. Schuester said honestly.

"Thank you. I'd like to be alone now," Kurt said softly.

That was when Puck looked up and saw Finn, who looked like he'd just taken a hammer blow to the gut. _Good_, Puck thought viciously. He stomped toward Finn and glared at him viciously, and Finn had the good sense to step back. "You don't get to be here for this," Puck said flatly. When Finn looked like he might protest, Puck raised his fist. "Get. Out. Of. Here," he hissed.

When Finn had left, Puck squared his shoulders and walked slowly into the music room. Kurt sighed when he saw him and buried his face in his hands. "I'm trying, Noah. I'm trying so hard to stop caring. Why does it hurt this much?"

"I don't know, princess," Puck offered. He sat down on the piano bench, facing opposite of Kurt.

"I should gut you for that nickname," Kurt said weakly. He wasn't crying, which was good.

"Nah – you'd miss me too much," Puck said cajolingly, jostling Kurt's shoulder with his own.

"More than I _should_," Kurt said darkly.

"Don't worry. When I win this bet, you won't be thinking about much any more," Puck teased.

"Ha!" Kurt said. "Do you know that Santana has this whole, like, _campaign_ of women to get you to orgasm before we perform on Friday?"

"What is her _deal_?" Puck asked, fearful.

"Because, people will think she's a turner if you dump her and then go for me."

"I dated Quinn _and_ Mercedes before anything happened with you!" Puck protested.

"Well, she's also angry because whenever she starts to care about Brittany too much she falls back on you, and now you're not a total manwhore you suddenly have more class than she does and she's running out of excuses to pick up the phone every time Brittany calls her just to ask her where her phone is."

"Brittany's still doing that?"

"She thinks that I'm a unicorn in disguise. She keeps trying to spook me into showing her my horn in the hallways," Kurt sighed.

"I could think of a few ways to show her your horn," Puck started, but Kurt shrieked indignantly and shoved him off the piano bench. Puck smiled up at him slowly, and Kurt smirked back, that special smirk, and maybe, just maybe, his mind was off of Finn for a moment. But when his fingers traced the piano keys on the way out of the music room, Puck wasn't so sure. Still, Kurt didn't protest when Puck took his hand and led him to his next class. He didn't do this with Finn. That had to count for something.

Right?

**Songs Used in This Chapter Were:** "So Yesterday" by Hilary Duff, off of her first album _Metamorphosis_. Yes, I know, I'm totally lame for liking that song, but you know what, it puts me in a good mood. Shut the hell up. That's right, you in the back – shut up!

"Semi-Charmed Life" by Third Eye Blind. The 90's was the best era of music ever. This song is good mood inducing!

"Porcelain" by Moby, off of _The Beach_ soundtrack. Everything stated in that conversation scene was true.

"Porcelain Doll" by Megan McCauley, again off of her fabulous album _Better Than Blood_. I'm serious now, peoples, check it out!

Also, mentioned in this chapter were "Can't Be Tamed" by Miley Cyrus (see Quinn's reaction for my thoughts on that song), "One Way or Another" by Blondie, "Enter Sandman" by Metallica, the musicals _The Phantom of the Opera_, _RENT_, _Wicked_, and _Les Misérables_, and that should be about it.

**A/N: **Once again, I'm so sorry about the wait, but this chapter was like 20 pages long, so I think it was worth the wait for you guys. I love you all – you know this right? Right?

See you next time – one more chapter until the big performance!


	9. 9 Hung Up

**A/N:** Hey, guys! It's been, like, a _while_ since I updated! How crazy is that? Well, as my classes grow tougher and my work hours more psycho, the chapters just get longer and more complicated. Isn't it irritating how real life spills into writing like that? I actually am sorry about not updating once a night like I was at the beginning of this, but don't worry; I haven't abandoned you!

This chapter starts off light but it gets a little heavy – warning! But, don't worry: it's going to be one of those lengthy chapters, so hopefully that will make up to you guys the wait. Did that sentence make grammatical sense? Do I care? Which question is more important?

Okay, seriously, screw philosophy.

MUSIC NOTE: Throughout the chapter, lyrics = _italics_ is the first person singing, **bold** is the second person singing, underline is the third person singing and _**them all together**_ or any combination thereof is a duet/group interlude.

ON TO THE CHAPTER!

_**KURT'S GAMBLE**_

_**EPISODE IX:**_

_**ATTACK OF THE CHEERIOS!**_

Kidding, kidding!

In all seriousness, with less cheese:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

Chapter 9: Hung Up

"I really freaking hate you sometimes," Puck said, glaring heartily at Quinn and Mercedes. "And I am _not_ stripping in front of you!" The two girls, who were currently lounging on Puck's bed, looked at each other incredulously before bursting into peals of hysterical laughter. Puck rolled his eyes to the heavens, unconsciously adopting Kurt Hummel's trademarked 'bitch, _please_' stance as he eyed his two so-called friends.

"Oh, my god!" Quinn howled, clutching at a stitch in her side. "_Puck_ having a sense of _modesty_! What a cheap joke!" Puck's mouth dropped open as Mercedes rolled onto his pillows, smacking the bed with mirth.

"Puck and a sense of _shame_ – what a cheap thrill!" she cackled. And, really, what did he _say_ to this? Puck watched in a daze of horrified confusion as the two went nuts on his bed, and _not_ in the fun way that he sometimes thought about late at night and _oookay_, so _not_ going there.

"That's lace on a _whore's_ fringe!" Quinn hooted merrily.

"What a parlor trick!" Mercedes sang out.

"What on _earth_ is going on in here?" Mrs. Puckerman asked, poking her head in. Quinn and Mercedes promptly fell off the bed and continued to laugh hysterically. "Are you all doing drugs up here?" she asked, sniffing the air suspiciously.

"Not that _I_ know about," Puck muttered, shrugging, as he glared balefully at the two lunatics he'd invited in for reasons unknown to god and man (okay, in his defense, Quinn had just sort of _shown_ up and barged in, informing him that Mercedes was on her way and that he'd better leave his door unlocked; when he protested she shot him that look that said _my mind will emasculate you right now, you tiny, stupid, insignificant male_ and he subsided).

"Well, you have another guest – really, Noah, this bedroom is a mess! The _least_ you could do is clean up in here before hosting your ungodly orgies!"

"There's _no_ orgies!" Puck protested.

"There _is_ a dreidl sticking into my ass!" Quinn complained, throwing it at him. When he caught it, he clanked at the coloring.

"SARAH!" he bellowed as his mother grimaced. "I found Moisha!" His little sister squealed in delight, darting into his room and snatching it from him.

"It stinks in here!" she told Puck primly, wrinkling her little nose and earning a grim smile from their mother. Puck half-heartedly gave her the stink-eye before she turned her devastatingly powerful lip quiver upon him, forcing him to sigh and hug her. Really, Puck thought, he was going to have to learn all of these damn hangdog facial expressions, because they worked pretty damn well; but then, Sarah had always had all of them eating out of her hands and she was damn sneaky and manipulative about it (and, really, when Quinn had briefly moved in to stay with them, it had gotten ten times worse).

"Moisha?" Mercedes asked, brushing tears of laughter from her eyes.

"Some kids have pet rocks. Sarah has pet dreidls," Puck explained.

"I think that's very sweet, Noah!" Rachel Berry cooed from behind his mother. She stepped into Puck's room, wrinkling her nose at the mess and the smell (it wasn't _that_ bad!). Rachel (and, really, just when the hell had _Rachel_ **a)** figured out where he lived, and **b)** been invited in?) was holding a bag from the DVD store and a plate of what looked like really gooey cookies. Seeing him eyeing the plate hopefully, she smiled and announced proudly, "They're my specialty non-fat Kosher Chocolate Celebratory Cakes!"

Puck's mother's eyes bugged out of her head. "_You're JEWISH?_" she screeched ecstatically, pointing a trembling finger at Rachel. Puck backed off, seeing the manic gleam in his mother's eyes. Rachel nodded, confused. Advancing on Puck like an enraged feline, Mrs. Puckerman grabbed Puck's ear and yanked, ignoring his yowl of painful protest. The three girls watched with wide eyes as the woman delivered a hard smack to the side of her son's head. "MARRY!" she hollered like a war cry, delivering another blow to the other side of his head. "HER!" Staggering away, she pulled a squeaking Rachel into a hug, kissed both her cheeks and ran sobbing down the hallway.

"Shalom!" Rachel called after her dumbly.

"That was _sooo_ freaky," Mercedes commented after a moment.

"Try living with her while pregnant with a half-non-Jew," Quinn rejoined with an eloquent shudder.

"What is going on?" Puck piped in, looking at Rachel. "And what are you _wearing_?" Rachel was dressed in a silky black blouse that looked both professional and sexy at the same time, and a dark red pencil skirt that highlighted her curvaceous legs and backside, leading down to black pantyhose and shiny black high-heels. With the light makeup, she almost looked sexy secretary without looking like a ho; he had to admire the balance.

"Yeah, babe – _meow_," Mercedes said appreciatively while Quinn let out a wolf-whistle.

"Do you think so?" Rachel asked uncertainly, turning in a circle. "Kurt told me that I looked fiercely sophisticated, but the last time he gave me a makeover Finn told me that I looked like a sad clown hooker." Quinn smacked her own forehead while Mercedes' eyes rolled skyward; really, it was just so…_Finn_.

"Kurt? You were at Kurt's?" Puck asked; then, catching himself, he coughed and said in his best nonchalantly sexy voice, "Lookin' _hot_, girl."

"Smooth, moron," Quinn said cuttingly. "Are those cookies really non-fat?"

"_And_ gluten-free!" Rachel said proudly, handing them over. She passed the DVD to Mercedes, who nodded her head in approval.

"How did you distract him long enough to get a peek at his movie collection?" Mercedes asked interestedly. When Puck opened his mouth to yet again ask why Rachel Berry (and Quinn and Mercedes, for that matter) were currently in his bedroom, Quinn shoved a big, sticky cookie in his mouth to shut him up. Munching sullenly, Puck sighed as Rachel's eyes lit up as she stood in his room like it were a stage, preparing to tell her story with Rachel Berry Dramatic Flair: Stage and Theatre© (a subtle difference from Rachel Berry Dramatic Flair: Song and Dance and Presentation©, she'd drilled into his head mercilessly during their (thankfully) short fling).

"Well, naturally, Kurt was somewhat suspicious that I'd ask him for help with my appearance, so I cried on cue and began wailing about my mother, and he told me to stop because I was in danger of leaking mascara on his carpet (I made sure to use non-waterproof eyeliner as well because I knew that it would get to him more effectively), so we went to his bathroom to clean me up and I _accidentally_ smeared some of the mascara on his shirt, at which point he shrieked at an impressively high pitch and went to the laundry room to put stain remover on it while I was able to peruse his collection!" She paused for breath while Puck stared at her, impressed despite himself…in a horrified sort of way…that she'd managed that entire spiel in one breath. "I instantly, of course, ruled out musicals like you said—" here she shot Puck an annoyed stare, which he didn't get "—and I noticed a collection of movies dedicated to this particular actor, so after we were finished with my makeover I plugged it into Google and paired the actor with the most action-oriented of the movies in his body of work. The website promised many guns, fight sequences and heterosexual sex scenes."

"Good work," Quinn praised. It was hard to _not_ laugh at how puppy-like Rachel appeared at the praise, but Puck managed. Instead, he turned his gaze to Quinn and Mercedes and finally threw his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"Okay, seriously – you two show up at my house with new clothes and try to get me to strip down so you can play Barbie with me – and you _know_ that Puckzilla is in no-play time mode right now – and now this." He gesticulated toward Rachel violently. "What the hell is going on?"

"Oh, you haven't told him?" Rachel guessed. Quinn shook her head, and Rachel giggled softly as she sat down on his bed without being invited. Puck gritted his teeth, and Quinn sighed and patted the ground next to her. Puck folded his impressive guns over his chest but both Quinn and Mercedes gave him their best _bitch, please_ glares and Puck didn't need to be emasculated in his own bedroom so he grudgingly sat down in between them.

"Listen, sweetie," Quinn said, taking his hand. "I know you've been going through a lot lately, so you need to just shut up and pay attention to what I'm saying."

"Because why?" Puck said petulantly.

"Because I know you better than you know yourself," Quinn said with some asperity. "And the Puck that I used to know would never be this twisted up over a bet, especially when there's sex on the other end. You've been going through some changes, haven't you? Some thoughts you didn't think you'd ever want to have about Kurt?"

"Hey – I'm totally going to win this bet," Puck protested. "He challenged my badassness!"

"Puck, cut the shit," Quinn said crudely. "Whenever I so much as say Kurt's name you look constipated because you're halfway happy and halfway scared of being happy. It's almost the same look on your face that you had whenever you talked about Beth."

"God," Puck groaned, and his head flopped backward onto his bed. Rachel soothingly ran her fingers through the short bristles of his hair. "I don't know how this all got so screwed up in the first place."

"You know, Noah, not all gay men are the stereotypical, effeminate 'fairy' that you make them out to be," Rachel began in her lecture-voice. "There's nothing to be ashamed about—"

"I'm not gay," Puck said flatly. "It's not like I'm all of a sudden looking at Finn and getting wood. It's…it's just _Kurt_." Puck felt like the words were being forced out of him by a meat grinder. How the hell did chicks handle all of this _talking about our feelings_ shit all the freaking time? That's why it was just _easier_ to be a guy; you had a bad day your buddies were there to say _You okay, dude?_ and you'd say, _Yeah, no big_, and then a fist bump and back to your day.

"You really like him, Puck," Quinn said softly. "Maybe even love him. You don't fall in love with someone's body parts. Or, well, you don't anymore."

"I fell for your tits," Puck said crudely, hiding behind the joke. Quinn gave him that look with her baby blues that told him she knew exactly what he was doing and there was no way she was going to let him get away with it.

"That's because my breastesses were lovingly handcrafted by God," she said primly, "to turn idiotic men like you into bumbling morons. Don't change the subject."

"Fine!" Puck snapped. "So maybe I'm a little gay for Kurt."

"A breakthrough," Mercedes declared, patting his thigh. "I figure I might as well go ahead and tell you now, if you hurt my boy – _pain_." Her eyes narrowed and fire seemed to breathe through her nostrils; Puck edged toward Quinn.

"So, other than torturing me and threatening my life, why are you all here?" he said, warily surveying the three serenely smiling women in his bedroom. Last year, there would be an orgy raging in here. What the hell was happening to his life?

"Well, as we know that you can't have any form of sexual intercourse per the terms of the deal with Kurt," Rachel said, "we've decided to set you up on a date!"

"This will be a total test run," Quinn continued. "We'll see if _you_ can control yourself enough not to make a move, and we'll see if Kurt feels the same way about you—"

"He totally toes," Mercedes interrupted confidently.

"I can totally control myself! You guys are _at_ those hellish practice sessions we have!" Puck thought he might as well try to defend himself.

"Yes, we are, and we therefore get to watch while you drool when Kurt comes out in each of his costume changes," Mercedes said dryly.

"Does he _have_ to wear pants _that_ tight around the ass?" Puck muttered. Mercedes heaved a long-suffering sigh and waved for Quinn to continue.

"_Anyway_," Quinn said, "those are practice sessions and nine times out of ten you aren't alone in the room together. This time, you're going to show up at his house and catch him off-guard while he's in his comfort zone, loaded down with snacks that he likes, and you're going to watch a movie that you both like. You can _pretend_ that it's just friendly hanging out, but you'll both know that it's not. This creates tension."

"Not to mention, you're gonna look hot," Mercedes said, indicating the bags of clothing at the foot of his bed.

"This sucks," Puck pouted.

"Have a cookie," Quinn said, stuffing another one in his mouth. Puck felt like that red bird from _Aladdin_, but he chewed anyway. Of course, Quinn, devious bitch that she was, used this as an opportunity to maneuver his shirt off, and in short order Puck was standing in his boxers as three women with no sexual interest whatsoever looked him over like was a turkey on Thanksgiving. _FML!_

As they began pulling clothes out of the bags, Quinn gave the other two girls an impudent smirk, and as they began dressing him up, Quinn began singing softly:

_Right now Puck is down and out, and feeling really crappy_

_And when I see how sad he is, it sort of makes me…happy!_

Puck shot her an incredulous glare as she shoved a muscle shirt over his head.

_Sorry, Puck, it's human nature – nothing I can do_

_It's schadenfreude: making me feel glad that I'm not you!_

"What the hell is that?" he protested angrily as Mercedes and Rachel cackled happily, forcing him into a pair of tight jeans that he was never going to wear out of the house. Seeing this, Mercedes conceded and went for a looser pair.

"'Schadenfreude,'" Rachel said. "From the Broadway phenomenon _Avenue Q_. It's a German word that means 'happiness at the misfortune of others.'"

"We're Jewish, Rachel," he pointed out, glaring warningly at Mercedes as she took out what looked to be a bracelet.

"Mazel tov," Rachel said mercilessly as Quinn began humming the tune once more. Mercedes grinned and joined in happily.

**Watching a vegetarian being told she just ate chicken!**

_Or watching a frat boy realize just what he put his dick in!_

**Being on an elevator, when somebody shouts "Hold the door!"**

_**Oh, yeah – "NO!"**_

_**It's schadenfreude – fuck you, lady, that's what stairs are for!**_

"That's in _Broadway_?" Puck asked, flabbergasted, as Rachel selected a belt. Rachel giggled and began the next verse.

How about: Straight-A students getting B's?

_Exes getting STD's!_

**Waking doormen from their naps!**

Watching tourists reading maps!

_Football players getting tackled!_

**CEO's getting shackled!**

_**Watching actors never reach the ending of their Oscars speech!**_

_**Schadenfreude!**_

_**Schadenfreude!**_

Rachel forced a leather strap with a tribal design over his wrist. Puck had to admit that it didn't look _that_ bad.

_The world needs people like you and me, who've been knocked around by fate_

**Because when people see us, they don't want to be us**

And that makes them feel great!

_We provide a vital service to society_

_**You and me: schadenfreude**_

_**Making the world a better place**_

_**Making the world a better place**_

_**Making the world a better place**_

_**To be!**_

_S-C-H-A-D-E-N-F-R-E-U-D-E!_

The girls fell back into gales of laughter as Puck surveyed himself in the mirror. He was wearing a dark red muscle shirt that perfectly displayed his ripped body while still looking casual, a pair of dark jeans that was just tight enough to cling in the right places but still loose enough that he could sit without having to readjust his junk, and just the one bracelet thingy. He looked like he'd halfway dressed to go out but then decided to stay home instead.

"Perfect," Quinn said, preening.

"Duh," chimed in Mercedes happily. "Oh, Kurt is doomed."

Puck smacked himself in the forehead.

**888**

There are certain rules in his life that Puck held as pretty universal truths. First off – Puckzilla was a stud. He didn't have to work for it. Austin Powers' mojo had _nothing_ on Puck's guns. Second; Noah Puckerman was a badass, straight-up, hardcore. Bad to the bone (he was talking iron bones and whiskey blood). Of course, like so many rules and truths Puck held to be self-whatever, they flew straight out the window with a cheerfully vulgar gesture in his direction when Kurt Hummel answered the door and Puck's insides turned to mush as he felt like giggling like his first pot high.

"Puck!" Kurt squeaked in surprise. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"What the hell are you _wearing_, Princess?" Puck asked, barely containing a snide snigger as Kurt's face darkened in that infamous scowl that Puck just _loved_. Kurt was standing at the door in a massively overlarge shirt advertising Hummel's Garage, stained with dark oil stains, and a pair of sweat pants that had holes in the knees. He looked like white trash.

"_Get inside_!" Kurt hissed frantically, checking around as if to see wheither or not the fashion police were descending upon his residence with stylish handcuffs to haul him away. He turned his frown on Puck. "If you _ever_, _ever_ tell anyone about this—" he indicated his outfit, his face looking as if he were gesturing toward disease-ridden roadkill "—I'll not only kill you, I'll tell Brittany exactly _who_ lied to her about the Oompa Loompa invasion last Halloween and then made off with all of her candy."

"You know about that?" Puck asked. Kurt shot him one of Quinn's looks and Puck wisely shut up. He tried a different tack. "So, what happened?"

Kurt sighed, looking so despondent that Puck wouldn't have been surprised if his lip quivered. It was kind of cute, in an overacted Rachel Berry sort of way. "Well, you know that Finn has been…trying too hard around here lately," he said tightly. "This apparently also lends itself to good intentions and…_he tried to do my dry-clean only __**laundry**_!" he wailed. "I can't even be _mad_ at him about it! I tried to yell at him and he looked like a three-year-old who'd just been told that the Teletubbies were dead! _All_ of my comfy couture, _down the drain_! And on my one day where I can be comfortable before the big day hits, I look like one of those poor, pathetic cows who gets dragged onto the set of _What Not to Wear_, kicking and screaming that my outfit looks good!"

Puck couldn't help it, really. He burst out laughing; he dropped his bag and bent at the knees, laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. Kurt's eyes widened in outrage before he let out a reluctant chuckle. When Burt and Carole walked in a few moments later, both teenagers were rolling on the floor, howling with laughter while kicking every inch of the other boy they could reach.

"When did my house become the cool place for crazies to hang out?" Burt mumbled. Carole just laughed as she headed for the kitchen to put the leftovers from their date in the fridge. "Why is he here again? I thought you said there was no practice."

"Um…actually, why _are_ you here, Noah?" Kurt asked, straightening himself out and sitting on the floor.

"I got kicked out of my house when Quinn and Mercedes took it over and turned it into a chick spa," Puck said truthfully. "I was going to hang with Mike and Matt but they're doing something tonight and I didn't want to gatecrash, so I figured you'd be free to chill for a bit." Okay, that part was fake, but Mike totally owed him one anyway so he'd back him up. Puck nudged the bag he'd dropped with his foot. "I brought a movie. And some popcorn."

"Sure," Kurt said, flushing when Puck's hand brushed by his shoulder as he reached for the bag. Delighted, Puck deliberately dragged his thigh against Kurt's side as he went to stand up, and Kurt shot him a look that he couldn't easily read.

"Leave the basement door open," Burt said darkly.

"Daddy," Kurt said exasperatedly. Burt gave him a look, and Kurt just shook his head. "Carole, you might want to check on Finn. He's been in the shower since you left; I think he's trying to drown himself."

"He's really sorry about your clothes, Kurt," Carole said carefully.

"I know he is. I yelled I forgave him through the door a few hundred times, but I don't want to damage my voice before the big performance so I finally just gave up and left him to brood, or sulk, or whatever he's doing in there," Kurt said levelly.

"Oh, like _you_ don't spend hours in the bathroom," Puck joked.

"I have good reason for that!" Kurt protested hotly. "This takes _time_," he snapped, waving his hand over his face.

"Sure thing, Princess," Puck said mockingly.

"Are you implying that I'm vain?" Kurt asked, his voice dropping dangerously. Puck loved the husky timber, so he shrugged and smirked. "I hope my kettle doesn't make you too black, pot," Kurt said accusingly. "Go pop popcorn; I'll set up the movie downstairs." He took the bag and started muttering under his breath as he stomped downstairs. Puck smiled fondly and then caught himself. He looked up to see if anyone noticed; Burt was giving him that crazy scary glare but Carole was laughing silently. When Burt opened his mouth, she grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him toward the stairs, shooting Puck a warm glance on her way past.

Puck popped the popcorn with a dopey grin on his face.

When he went downstairs, Kurt was staring at _The Hard-Easy_ with a puzzled expression on his face. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Hollywood's going out of business; got it from the action section," Puck lied. He didn't like lying to Kurt, but Quinn had schooled him hard on how to set everything up, and Kurt was just starting to let all of his barriers fall when he was around Puck; he didn't want to freak Kurt out and send him straight back to ice prince mode. "It looked good. Why?"

"It's just…it's not a really well-known movie, and I have it, and I had to order it off the internet, is all," Kurt said.

"Oh, you've already seen it," Puck said, trying to sound disappointed.

"It's very good," Kurt said quickly. "I wouldn't mind watching it again; I'm sure you'll get a kick out of it."

"Yeah – bank robberies, gun fights. Plus it's got that dude from _Bones_ in it," Puck said casually, just like Mercedes had suggested (okay, well, ordered).

"_You_ know who David Boreanaz is?" Kurt asked skeptically.

"Yeah – why?" Puck asked innocently. Kurt flushed extravagantly and pointedly grabbed a handful of the popcorn Puck had brought down with him as he flipped the play button. Shaking with silent laughter, Puck sat down on the couch next to him. With the lights off, it seemed hugely intimate, how close they were sitting, but Puck wasn't touching Kurt.

"_This is really important," Quinn said, fixing him with a stern glare. "Right now, Kurt's more vulnerable than ever. _He_ has to make the first move, or this won't be for anything. He has to see that you're in this for more than just a bet. You _are_, right?"_

The movie wasn't that bad, really; the chick was hot and the fights were epic, but it was dragging. Puck had _never_ made it through a movie this long in a setting like this without making out with the person next to him. His nerves felt frayed as he could feel Kurt watching him more than he was watching the movie. Whenever their hands accidentally touched as they reached for popcorn, it was hard to tell who was shaking harder. The tension in the room was thick enough that Puck could feel it weighing the air down.

He almost jumped when Kurt moved a little closer, his hand lightly brushing against Puck's. He stayed very still as he slowly wrapped his large hand over Kurt's small one, a bolt of protectiveness shooting through him as Kurt trustingly wrapped his small fingers through Puck's, leaning on his shoulder. They stayed that way for the rest of the movie, and Puck couldn't fight down the smile on his face as the credits began to roll.

"Pretty good, huh?" Kurt asked, using the remote-control thing he had for his lights which Puck _so_ wasn't jealous over, flipping the TV off. By his tone of voice, Puck could tell that he wasn't asking about the movie.

"Yeah, it was," Puck said softly.

"Noah…" Kurt disentangled himself, and they sat apart from each other, regarding each other seriously. "You…you're going to win the bet."

"No I'm not," Puck said flatly. Kurt looked like he'd been punched in the gut, and Puck quickly clarified, "I haven't cheated or anything…I just mean…Kurt, I'm going to screw you like that."

"Then…why…why are you here?" Kurt sounds so fragile, so breakable, and Puck smiles and lightly takes his hands in his, all innocent and soft.

"Cuz I want to be, Princess," he said, hoping that Kurt would understand everything he wanted to say but didn't have the words for.

"Oh," Kurt said. He looked down at their joined hands, and Puck was relieved to see he was smiling brightly. "You know, I could…we could call it all off, if you wanted to. I know that Santana's been stalking you lately, and…"

"First off, I'm a badass. I made you a deal. But how about we…Kurt…I mean, we could…well…" Puck feels like an idiot. How the hell was he going to get through this?

"If that was your incredibly eloquent way of asking if I'd be interested in dating you, my answer's going to be yes, if it helps you put it into words," Kurt said waspishly, but he was smirking that special smirk again.

"Wanna go out with Puckzilla?" Puck asked, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously. Kurt burst out laughing and sighed as he squeezed Puck's hand.

"You're kind of a piece of work, you know that?" Kurt asked.

"You love it," Puck accused. Kurt smiled softly.

"The movie's over, you know…you don't have to stay," he offered after a moment.

"I said I'm here because I want to be," Puck reminded him. They were still holding hands, so he gave Kurt a squeeze.

"Okay, then, how about I ask you for a favor?" Kurt asked, meeting his eyes.

"Whatever you want," Puck agreed.

"You know, you left your guitar here the last practice, and, well, I was wondering – could you teach me to play?" He sounded like a kid at Christmas. Puck thought about it for a moment.

"How about I make you a deal," he said slowly after a moment.

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Be…tomorrow, be the old Kurt," Puck requested. Kurt froze, but he didn't stiffen, and he didn't pull his hands away. "I mean, look like you used to, before…" he trailed off.

"It depends," Kurt said after a moment. He met Puck's eyes. "Are you going to be there to make sure that my Armani suffers no dumpster tosses?'

"Always," Puck promised, and Kurt's cheeks glowed. They solemnly shook hands on it, before Kurt bounded up to grab Puck's guitar. Puck grinned as Kurt settled into his lap, his back resting against Puck's chest, and his breath hitched and uneven as Puck settled Kurt's delicate fingers on the strings. Somehow balancing intimate and innocent, Puck played Kurt through "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" and "Mary Had a Little Lamb" and a few scales before Kurt stilled his hands.

"Where did you learn to play?" he asked curiously. It was easier to answer this when they were touching but not looking at each other, Puck decided. He lightly gripped Kurt's hands in his own.

"My dad left this guitar to me, when he walked out. I used to think if a played well enough, he'd come back home, and turn out to be a rock star or something, take me and my sister out of Lima and off to wherever the hell he is. I gave up on that, but…"

"It makes you feel close to him," Kurt finished.

"Yeah," Puck muttered, his throat feeling raw.

"Play something for me – anything," Kurt ordered, but his voice was soft. "We can sing a little."

"Like what?" Puck asked.

"Something your dad would like," Kurt suggested. Puck's throat was dry as he began hesitantly picking at the chords, and Kurt relaxed against him as he recognized the tune. Then Kurt's voice, once more surprising in his capacity to drop to the lower registers, rolled out sultry and smooth in the basement as Puck began to play.

_People are strange when you're a stranger  
Faces look ugly when you're alone  
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted  
Streets are uneven when you're down_

When you're strange  
Faces come out of the rain  
When you're strange  
No one remembers your name  
When you're strange  
When you're strange  
When you're strange

Puck chuckled as Kurt snuggled closer to his chest, picking up the lyrics and trying not to picture why Kurt sounded like the song meant so much to him.

**People are strange when you're a stranger  
Faces look ugly when you're alone  
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted  
Streets are uneven when you're down**

When you're strange  
Faces come out of the rain  
When you're strange  
No one remembers your name  
When you're strange  
When you're strange  
When you're strange

It wasn't the hardest tune to play, and it left his mind free to wander to that first month after his father had walked out the door, trying to play his way through the entire Doors anthology, trying not to tear up when this song came on, when he pictured his dad's bristly mustache quivering when he sang it…

_**People are strange when you're a stranger  
Faces look ugly when you're alone  
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted  
Streets are uneven when you're down**_

When you're strange  
Faces come out of the rain  
When you're strange  
No one remembers your name  
When you're strange   
_**When you're strange  
When you're strange**_

"Damn…we _are_ good," Kurt commented, and Puck just laughed as he picked out a harder chord and started strumming. Kurt just chuckled as he took the challenge, this time turning to meet Puck's eyes as he started singing, the look in his eyes burning through Puck's blood like fire that pooled in his groin as Kurt growled out the lyrics with a biting intensity.

_I see a red door and I want it painted black  
No colors anymore; I want them to turn black  
I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes  
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes_

Puck leaned in closer, their breath mingling as he began to sing.

**I see a line of cars and they're all painted black  
With flowers and my love both never to come back  
I see people turn their heads and quickly look away  
Like a new born baby it just happens every day**

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black  
I see my red door and must have it painted black  
Maybe then I'll fade away and not have to face the facts  
It's not easy facin' up when your whole world is black_

**No more will my green sea go turn a deeper blue  
I could not foresee this thing happening to you  
If I look hard enough into the settin' sun  
My love will laugh with me before the mornin' comes**

_**I see a red door and I want it painted black  
No colors anymore I want them to turn black  
I see the girls go by dressed in their summer clothes  
I have to turn my head until my darkness goes**_

Hmm, hmm, hmm,...

I wanna see it painted, painted black  
Black as night, black as coal  
I wanna see the sun blotted out from the sky  
I wanna see it painted, painted, painted, painted black…

They had stopped, inches apart, when hands clapping brought them both out of their reverie and Puck turned, startled, to see Burt Hummel applauding them from the foot of the stairs. Kurt chuckled weakly and took a mock bow.

"You boys sound like you're going to win this thing you've been working on," Burt said. He gave Puck a hard stare, before saying in an almost surprised tone of voice, "You aren't half-bad on that thing, son. You have to appreciate the classics." Puck felt his lips twitch upward in a surprised smile at the approval in Burt's tone, before Burt nodded at the clock. "It's about time you got home, don't you think?"

"Yeah, Mr. Hummel," Puck said, getting to his feet. Kurt smiled as he stood gracefully to walk him to the door. For once, Burt didn't glare at Puck on his way out. Kurt gave him a smile that wasn't easily read before he leaned up and brushed his lips against Puck's cheek at the front door.

"Good night, Noah," he said shyly.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Kurt," Puck promised, and Kurt smiled as he shut the door.

Puck's badassness was laughing at him as he drove home. Quinn reinforced this when he told her and Mercedes how the night went and she laughed at him mercilessly. "You're such a _girl_ all of a sudden!" she accused. Puck smiled nastily and scraped together the last few shards of his dignity as he leaned in and whispered in her ear:

"Oh, because you're so totally _not_ loving it when Mike smiles at you in glee every day?"

Quinn shrieked and smacked him on the arm, but she was smiling at him as she and Mercedes and Rachel, all smelling fruity and giggling enough to make him sure that his mom had broken out her girly bitch beers, strutted from his house. Puck slept that night with a smile on his face, even if his room smelled like girly flower crap.

**888**

The glee club had started meeting informally at the front of the school in the mornings. On the one hand, they all kind of wanted to see each other, but on the other, it was easier to scare off would-be slushiers and dumpster-tossers if they met all twelve of them in a group; ever since the club had come together dressed like freaks in the halls to help Finn and Kurt fight off those stupid jocks the other popular kids had been a little more wary about picking on the gleeks unless they were outnumbered.

This morning, Puck had picked Quinn and Mercedes and Rachel up, as Quinn said that her and Kurt's important project was on for the day and she didn't want to walk to school, and Mercedes and Rachel had stayed the night with her after their spa day. And, okay, the look on Finn's face when Rachel clambered out of Puck's truck that morning had been a _little_ satisfying, not that Puck was going to admit it. He was being the bigger man than Finn for once, and it was kind of a head-rush. But Puck had been a little disappointed when he didn't see Kurt amongst the already-gathered. He glanced toward the dumpsters, just in case, but there wasn't anyone around there today.

That was when he realized that Kurt was already there, just hidden by Finn's bulk. Puck felt a smile fighting to break free on his face as Kurt looked up. "Hey," he said softly, and Puck nodded, smiling happily. He wasn't good with words, but Kurt understood. Kurt was wearing a white button-up with a black pencil tie, a designer coat with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and some expensive name-brand pants, one of his gay scarves flung artfully around his neck. He looked like the Kurt Hummel of months past, and Puck just wanted to hug him. He settled for a knuckle bump, and Kurt rolled his eyes and returned the gesture.

"Kurt! You look _fierce_!" Mercedes gushed, and she and Kurt quickly began discussing which Alexander McQueen catalogue he'd ordered from and where her hat had come from and other things that Kurt hadn't let himself talk about for the last few weeks. Quinn wasn't the only one sending Puck a warm glance, but for once Finn wasn't alone in glaring at Puck hatefully; Santana looked like flames were pouring from her eyes. As Quinn, Mercedes and Kurt headed into the school, having a whispered discussion about what was coming up later that day, Finn stepped into Kurt's face, looking pissed off.

"Stop coming by my house, Puck," he ordered angrily.

"What did you just say to me?" Puck demanded disbelievingly.

"You saw Kurt today," Finn pointed out. "He's getting back to himself; he doesn't need _you_ around."

"Finn!" Rachel protested, but Finn ignored her.

"He's looking like that today because _I_ asked him to, after _you_ freaked him out," Puck snarled venomously. Finn's eyes bulged as he lifted his fist, before Rachel's hand suddenly grabbed Finn's shirt and tugged him backwards forcefully. Puck hadn't seen her look this livid since the time she'd got laryngitis and freaked out and installed hidden microphones in the choir room to spy on them all.

"Come with me," she ordered in that _I am a diva, you are a peasant, now shut up and obey_ voice that brooked no argument. Puck tried to focus on how funny it was to watch Finn shuffle after her like a puppy on a leash, but he was shaking with anger and his fists were clenched in an effort to calm down. Then he noticed that he was alone with Santana and Brittany and Santana was stalking toward him. How had this day gone so totally to shit so freaking fast?

"So, I noticed that Hummel's gone faggy again," she said without preamble. "You were over at his house last night; did he put out that fast? I knew that frigid bitch routine wasn't genuine."

"Shut your mouth," Puck ordered her flatly, and she sneered at him coldly.

"What's the matter? Now that you haven't got any of this for so long you're going gay too? You can't fool me with whatever the hell it is you're doing, Puckerman; you aren't a fudgepacker," Santana continued, heedless of his glare. Surprisingly, it was Brittany who spoke up first.

"You shouldn't call Kurt that," said the small blonde girl. "It hurts his feelings."

"So?" Santana said carelessly. "We both know who Puck belongs to. Not even Quinn—"

"It's time for you to shut the hell up!" Puck snarled, his look screaming _I will clock you, I don't care that you're a girl_. Santana paused for a moment, unsure.

"Come on, Santana," Brittany urged. "We can go get those chocolate things from the cafeteria."

"Shut up, Brittany, I'm _talking_," Santana snapped, and Brittany's eyes welled up as she hurried toward the school on her own.

"What the hell is your problem?" Puck snapped, watching Brittany go as guilt washed over Santana's face, cracking her armor.

"What's _my_ problem?" she snarled, whipping around and fixing him with a glare. "_I'm_ not the one who's turning into a freaking _faggot_, you bastard! _I'm_ not the one _ditching_ my _friends_ to hang out at _Kurt's_ house all the time, and I can't call you anymore, and you – you're a _bastard_!" she finally hollered.

"You know what, Santana?" Puck said flatly. "Maybe you should stop wondering about what you _don't_ have and worry about what you _do_ have, because Brittany isn't going to be around waiting for your scraps for forever. Why are you _really_ angry at me?" She gaped at him, her mouth working like a fish. "You do what you want; I'm gonna go buy Brittany that damn chocolate and stop her crying," he said after a moment, and left her there under the bright sun.

**8**

Predictably enough, Puck found Brittany cheering herself up by teaching her friend Becky how to play hopscotch in the gym (Becky had Down's syndrome and had recently been promoted to Cheerio, inexplicably enough). Puck set his gift of chocolate down and Brittany sat down next to him, munching as Becky giggled her way through a game. "She isn't really mad at me," Brittany said reassuringly, but Puck didn't know if she was trying to reassure herself or him.

"I know," Puck said softly. "One day she'll work it out."

"When I grow up I want to be a tooth fairy," Brittany said. "That way I can take away all the bad teeth and leave money under yours and Santana's pillows so you guys don't have to worry about the bad guys from the IRS taking your house away, and you'll be friends again." She took a determined bite from her chocolate. Puck just pulled her into a hug, and they sat there in the gym together for all of first period.

**888**

"Okay, everyone," Mr. Schuester said that afternoon as they all gathered together in the room. Santana refused to meet his eyes, but she'd positioned herself so the only chair available for Brittany was right next to her. When Santana clasped her hand, Brittany's eyes lit up happily. Puck turned away.

"I know that you've all been working very hard, and I know that you're going to give me something really special – and I hope that you know this, because Artie's friends from the A/V club have graciously agreed to tape each of the performances so we can start our first New Directions memories collection!" Mr. Schuester looked so excited that the groans they all gave were somewhat half-hearted. "I've picked your names out for the order you'll be performing in – well, actually Rachel has already requested to go first and Kurt has asked to go last, so the teams will go like this: Rachel and Matt, Quinn and Artie, Tina and Mike, Santana and Brittany, Finn and Mercedes, and Kurt and Puck. Now, I've got a couple of students who've taken the time to prepare something else for us, so I'm going to give the floor to Kurt and Quinn now." He gestured, and the two, beaming, stood up and headed down.

"Now, as you all know, I've been working on something with Kurt for a while, and we've just got it down to show all of you," Quinn said, nodding to Kurt. "Okay, so, hit the music, 'Cedes!" Mercedes gave her the thumbs up and hit play on the stereo, just as a very distinctive set of footsteps sounded in the hall. _Oh, crap_, Puck thought, as Sue Sylvester stepped into the room. Weirdly enough, Kurt and Quinn smiled as if satisfied with something. Timed almost as if they'd planned it, the music started up loud and clear just as the Cheerios' coach was about to open her mouth, and Kurt and Quinn ripped off their tracksuits to reveal that they were _both_ in their Cheerios uniforms as Quinn opened her mouth and, pitch-perfect, began to sing Madonna to her most ardent fan as she and Kurt stepped into a ridiculously complicated set of dance steps.

_Every little thing that you say or do  
I'm hung up  
I'm hung up on you  
Waiting for your call  
Baby night and day  
I'm fed up  
I'm tired of waiting on you_

Quinn began a dizzying display of gymnastics as Kurt forcefully took center stage, matching her movement for movement, their synchronicity astounding, their sexuality teasing, as he grated out the verse, dancing back to back with Quinn like they were born to perform the song.

**Time goes by so slowly for those who wait  
No time to hesitate  
Those who run seem to have all the fun  
I'm caught up  
I don't know what to do**

Time goes by so slowly  
Time goes by so slowly  
Time goes by so slowly  
I don't know what to do

Kurt dropped down into a bridge that Quinn straddled, swinging over him and twirling into a gymnastics move as Kurt dropped to keep up with her, swinging his hips in time to her groove.

_Every little thing that you say or do  
I'm hung up  
I'm hung up on you  
Waiting for your call  
Baby night and day  
I'm fed up  
I'm tired of waiting on you_

Every little thing that you say or do  
I'm hung up  
I'm hung up on you

Waiting for your call  
Baby night and day  
I'm fed up  
I'm tired of waiting on you

Kurt leapt to his feet and caught her up, lifting Quinn so that her feet were above the ground and he spun them around, looking like a move practiced by figure skaters as he stunningly enough continued to sing without a hitch; he dropped Quinn in a swing dance inspired move, which she landed before going on to continue the beautiful, complex, erotic dance they'd begun. Puck's mouth dropped open; he wasn't the only one.

**Ring ring ring goes the telephone  
The lights are on but there's no-one home  
Tick tick tock it's a quarter to two  
And I'm done  
I'm hanging up on you**

I can't keep on waiting for you  
I know that you're still hesitating  
Don't cry for me  
'cause I'll find my way  
you'll wake up one day  
but it'll be too late

Without warning, the two of them grabbed Puck by either arm, spinning him to stand, stunned between the two of them, as they began to dance-fight over and around him, and he twisted and turned between the two of them, haplessly becoming part of the dance as the two used him as a figure of frustration, dancing around him, their outfits so tight that Puck's head started to spin.

_Every little thing that you say or do  
I'm hung up  
I'm hung up on you  
Waiting for your call  
Baby night and day  
I'm fed up  
I'm tired of waiting on you  
_  
_**Every little thing that you say or do  
I'm hung up  
I'm hung up on you  
Waiting for your call  
Baby night and day  
I'm fed up  
I'm tired of waiting on you**_

As the song came to a close, they shoved Puck back to his seat and stood triumphantly back to back, striking a pose. The stunned club burst into applause; even Finn had been startled into applauding wildly with the rest. Kurt flashed Puck a charm the birds from the nest grin, and Puck chuckled as he realized it was a look Kurt had borrowed from him.

"Queen!" Sue Sylvester snapped, her tone shutting the club up as Mr. Schue realized she was in the room for the first time. They all watched her apprehensively as she curled her lip at the two performers, who held their ground fearlessly. "I find myself admiring your balls a little more every day. If you ever attempt to blatantly manipulate me like this again, I'll cut them off and fix them to Frankenteen's mother's ears as jewelry." She jerked her head at Finn, who paled. "I prefer my opponents to favor a more sneaky approach. It makes their defeat the more satisfying, particularly when you consider who I'm usually competing against – such as that dripping pile of gelatinous hair gunk who just crawled out of a filthy, illegal Taiwanese hair place's dumpster to grace us with his presence today." She indicated Mr. Schue with a contemptuous thumb (and Puck had to seriously give her props for managing to somehow make one of her _limbs_ contemptuous).

"Of course, coach," Kurt said sweetly. He _had_ planned this! Puck realized. _That little bastard!_

"We have practice starting up again next week, but I imagine you already know that," Sue continued. "Fabray, I want your contract in writing tomorrow stating that those tubes are as good as tied from now on. I can't have Glambert's co-captain doing that routine looking like an obnoxious cow." With that, she turned and stalked out of the room.

"I _told_ you," Kurt said, turning to Quinn, who squealed and pulled him into a hug.

"Did that just happen?" Mike asked the room at large.

"After _this_ school year, what _hasn't_ happened?" Matt drawled.

"Point," Mike conceded, but Puck smirked as he saw that Mike's eyes never left Quinn's short skirt.

"Well, I guess I'll conclude this meeting," Mr. Schue said, standing with remarkable dignity for someone who'd just been so thoroughly trashed. "Some of us need to get ready for Cheerios practice." He shot Kurt and Quinn a look, and they both beamed at him innocently. He snorted and chuckled. "That was great, guys."

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," they chorused.

"Okay, guys, the performances begin tomorrow! I can't wait to see what you guys have come up with!"

Puck followed the group out, leaving Santana and Brittany to slowly walk the other way, away from the group, hand in hand. Puck was glad that none of the others seemed to have noticed yet. He caught up with a happily gossiping Kurt and Quinn. "So, couldn't have told me about that, could you have?" he asked, but he wasn't really pissed considering how happy they both looked right now. He slung his arms around their shoulders and they both sighed and elbowed him in the stomach.

"Of course not – it had to look real. You suck at acting," Quinn explained patiently.

"And at life," Kurt reminded her, and they both started laughing at Puck's affronted noise of protest. He settled for messing up Kurt's perfectly coiffed hair, and Kurt yelled in anguish as Quinn and Puck laughed at him mercilessly.

"What do you want to do tonight?" Puck asked Kurt as Quinn skipped off to catch up with Mercedes and squeal some more.

"Nothing," Kurt said. "I'm spending the night in with the family. I'm…you were right, Noah. I'm fixing things with Finn, a little bit. So tonight I'm letting him teach me to blow up aliens on the computer. He insists it's a rite of passage. I tried to convince him to let me play Medal of Honor because ever since you taught me about the explosives package I can't lose at that game."

"Blowing me to smithereens every time I tried to get a shot off doesn't qualify as winning," Puck grumped, trying to stamp down the flames of jealousy in his heart as he heard Finn approaching.

"Oh, the grim burn of defeat," Kurt crowed.

"You ready for tomorrow, then, babe?" Puck asked, using the name for the first time. Kurt grinned and blushed slightly.

"I know I am," he said. "Are you?"

"Hell yeah," Puck said. They bumped fists and then Puck obligingly moved out of Finn's way. He briefly contemplated telling Kurt about his altercation with Finn that morning and disrupt Finn's uninterrupted time with Kurt, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything to wipe that unguarded smile off of Kurt's face.

"Hey, you guys were so great," Finn said, sounding happier and more Finn-like than Puck had heard him in a while. _Great_, he thought sourly.

"Duh," Kurt said, lightly pushing Finn. "Frankenteen."

"Don't call me that! Tinker-bell," he shot back slyly.

"Fine then – carry my books," Kurt ordered, and shoved his bag into Finn's arm, laughing as Finn swatted at him. When Finn looked back, he looked almost malicious as he smirked at Puck, before going after Kurt. Puck looked beyond him to see Rachel standing alone in the door of the choir room. They looked at each other and nodded as they went their separate ways. The big day was tomorrow.

Puck only prayed that it went off without a hitch, as he tried to distract himself from the buzzing absence of Kurt's laughter in his ears as he rode home with _Finn_.

**Songs used in this chapter:**

"**Schadenfreude" from the Broadway musical **_**Avenue Q**_**, a screamingly funny musical that…well, if you haven't seen/heard it, shoot yourself in the foot.**

"**People Are Strange" by The Doors. Amazing song; possibly their best (and most depressing). No one can do a good cover of this; seriously, Amy Lee of Evanescence can't do a good cover of this, and she is a music goddess. It's just a Doors song. I loved using it in this chapter, but I really hope they never try it on **_**Glee**_**.**

"**Paint It Black" by The Rolling Stones. This song needs no explanation. It is just made of epic awesomeness.**

"**Hung Up" by Madonna. One of her more catchy dance tunes; I just couldn't picture anyone but Quinn singing this, and I hope you enjoyed the idea as well (if there's a sequel to the Madonna episode, this song. This song!)**

**A/N:** Wow, that took a while! Once again, I'm so very sorry for leaving you guys without an update for so long. I promise that the next chapter won't take as long! I hope that you enjoy the performances (and it really will help if you listen to the songs as you read, because it'll be more like what it's supposed to be like). Wouldn't it be cool if someone from _Glee_ was actually reading these stories and thought one of my ideas was good enough to land on the show?

Huh. Just went to daydream land for a little while.

I love you all, but I need sleep. Goodnight, and I can't wait to meet up with you all again!


	10. 10 Crescendo or Love in the Haus of Gaga

**A/N:** Oh, wow, it's been a bit of a break from this, hasn't it? I'm so sorry that I've left you all hanging as long as I have, but real life has…well, let's just say that things have not been very good and leave it at that; it's simpler that way. I just want to thank everyone who's reviewed and all the kind words of encouragement I've received; you guys are really who this chapter is for.

**It's the big competition chapter!**

This chapter is crazy with music and choreography; it took me a while to write it out and I'm still not entirely sure that I'm happy with it. However, it is what it is, so I'll leave it at that. Just a warning: THIS CHAPTER FEATURES A **LOT** OF MUSIC. It's important to the story, so I'd advise trying to listen to some of the songs while reading. I've left a soundtrack list at the bottom of the page.

So, with all of that out of the way, I proudly present:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

**Chapter 10: Crescendo**

**(or, Love in the Haus of Gaga)**

"Whatever, Quinnie-the-Pooh; you clearly have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't _ever_ call me that again, you useless queen."

"See the next time I ever take _you_ shopping."

"Like I need _you_ to tell me that my ass looks good in leather."

By now, most of New Directions were so used to Quinn and Kurt's scathing conversations that they just shrugged it off when the pair of them came in. Puck, for his part, was already sweating bullets and it pissed him off slightly when he watched Kurt saunter into glee club like he usually did: like he owned the place and there was nothing or no one inside who could bother him. Puck glanced over and was glad to see that Rachel also looked like she was trying to stop herself from pissing on the floor in between shooting death glares at Kurt.

God, how the hell was it _already_ the night of the competition? This month had been one of the longest yet shortest of Puck's life – on the one hand, he spent most days with a raging _bitch_ of a hard-on that he could do nothing about, but on the other, so much had happened and shifted and changed between him and Kurt and everyone else that he was still sometimes just staring at the calendar and wondering where all the _time_ went. Now, it was Thursday afternoon just before their three-day weekend, the glee club had the auditorium and the band booked for the evening, and they were all expected to get up and perform in front of not only Mr. Schuester, but also a decent crowd that Rachel had bullied Mr. Schuester into finding amongst dance students, music students, and proud parents.

The very thought of going through his and Kurt's entire routine in front of not only Carole Hudson but _Burt Hummel_ was enough to make Puck's blood run cold.

"_Hey_, guys!" Mr. Schuester called as he bounced into the room, looking like he'd just swallowed five Red Bulls. Puck never could figure out just how the hell the man managed to summon so much energetic enthusiasm for every little aspect of glee club. Now, Puck knew that at this point glee had become the best part of his day (and wasn't _that_ rubbing salt in the gaping wound that used to be his epic popularity status in this school), but, seriously, if Schue could cook glee up and eat it he'd be packing in four squares every day, plus dessert.

"You have that look on your face like you're trying to distract yourself by thinking stupid thoughts," Kurt commented, seating himself elegantly next to Puck.

"Dude, aren't you nervous _at all_?" Puck demanded, jerked out of his thoughts and wondering as always how his facial expressions enabled Kurt to be a damn mind-reader when it came to knowing exactly what Puck was thinking about.

"Firstly, don't call me _dude_," Kurt snapped. Then he leveled Puck with a disbelieving expression. "And, secondly, are you mentally _deficient_? How can you think I'm anything _but_ nervous?"

"Fine, princess," Puck smirked. Kurt's lips twitched upward unwillingly at the now-familiar nickname. "And you don't _look_ nervous."

"Of course I don't," Kurt said sniffily. "It's my acting skills that set me apart from that overeager puppy dog who is currently wearing the _most_ atrocious outfit; my _god_, where does she _find_ sweaters like that?" He glared at Rachel irritably. It amused Puck to no end that no matter how "frenemies" Rachel and Kurt had become, Kurt instantly jumped down Rachel's throat the second she wore one of her outfits that Kurt had ordered her to burn when he'd taken her shopping for clothes at the mall. "Sometimes I think she practices black magic; _no one_ can dress that _ridiculously_ without calling on the powers of darkness." Kurt shuddered eloquently, and Puck gave a stifled chuckle, trying hard to _not_ look at Rachel (who was wearing a betrayed expression, as if Puck no longer being just as nervous as she was violated some sacred bond of Jewish solidarity). "Knew I could get you smiling," Kurt said softly.

Puck glanced over with a surprised grin. Kurt was pink around the cheeks and trying hard to not look at him. So much had changed between them recently, but Puck was getting better at figuring out that sometimes being Puckzilla just didn't cut it with Kurt. It mattered to him what cut it with Kurt. So instead he joined their fingers together and gave Kurt's hand a squeeze. Kurt didn't look at him, but he didn't pull his hand away, either.

"So, I know that you're all nervous," Mr. Schuester was saying, "but if these performances are anything like what I know that you all can come up with, I can assure you that all of you are going to be amazing." He gave them all his warm smile, and Puck tried to retain his manliness by stomping on the little feeling of encouraged hope he felt. "But, as it occurred to me when Rachel managed to drum up the audience that we'll have waiting for us tonight, that you guys really do work best when in competition, so I've changed the rules up a little bit!"

They all stared up at him trepidatiously. "Tonight, Artie's friends in the A/V club have very generously offered their services, and you will _all_ be individually filmed!" Rachel looked up excitedly as the rest of them sat back in dismay. "So, here's how it's going to work: tomorrow morning, we'll have a glee club meeting where you will all vote on each performance – you'll leave your names on your vote, so that I can make sure that you aren't voting for yourselves, of course." He shot a hard look at Rachel, but the competitive gleam in her eyes didn't allow her to feel shame at this point.

Perhaps sensing a pending case of Rachel's psychosis, Mr. Schuester hurriedly kept talking. "The _winner_ of the most votes gets to choose every song that we perform both meetings a week for the next two weeks, so that's four meetings where your clubmates will be performing anything that you choose – unless it's too vulgar." He shot Puck a look, but his eyes strayed to Kurt as well. Kurt stifled a snigger and glanced down, tightening his hold on Puck's hand, and Puck smirked. "But that isn't all. At the next school pep rally, Principle Figgins has graciously allowed me to advertise for the glee club, so the top three videos will be shown to the entire school to convince more people to try out for glee club!"

"Oh! That's such a great idea, Mr. Schue!" Rachel called out rapturously. Even Santana, mistress of disinterest, was looking somewhat interested in winning the grand prize.

"Thank you, Rachel. Now, I know that you all will do great – and remember, you're not just performing in front of the club: your parents, some of your classmates, and some performing arts students from around the area are all here, and your showcase could very well be displayed in front of the entire school. Give it your all tonight, guys!" He beamed at them. Puck was glad that Kurt's hand felt just as sweaty as his own. Tonight was going to be hell.

"Now, just to remind you, the teams are going to go in this order: Rachel and Matt, then Quinn and Artie, then Tina and Mike, then Santana and Brittany, Finn and Mercedes, and finally Kurt and Puck." Rachel glanced around triumphantly at being chosen first. Kurt sent a fierce glare her way, and they both nodded at each other firmly: the competition was _on_. Puck and Quinn smirked at each other from across the room as Mercedes looked like she was trying to instill some confidence in a decidedly nervous-looking Finn. "You each have access to the dressing rooms and the bathrooms for the next hour to get ready, before the show is on. Kurt and Finn's parents have graciously bought us all bottles of cold water in that cooler over there, and some of those mini-fans to keep cool. I don't think I'll have to enforce this, but remember, less than half an hour each, okay guys?"

When they all nodded, Schue grinned and gave them all a huge thumbs up before telling them to break a leg and heading off to set things up in the auditorium and greeting any early arrivals. As soon as he was out of the room, babble broke out excitedly as they all started chattering about winning, even as Rachel leapt to her feet and started to drag Matt toward the bathrooms. Finn got up quickly and he said something to Rachel that made her pause. Puck's eyes narrowed as the tall boy shuffled closer to them. He felt Kurt's hand tense in his.

"Kurt…Puck…I just…I wanted to say…good luck out there," Finn said after a moment. He wasn't looking at either of them. Puck had been expecting just about anything but that sentence, so he just stared.

"Um…you too, Finn. You'll do great out there," Kurt said after a painfully awkward moment.

"Thanks, Kurt," Finn said warmly. He finally met Kurt's eyes and smiled before he left, carefully ignoring Puck's existence.

"Well, that was weird," Puck said after a moment.

"Holy crap!" Kurt said, surging to his feet, looking after where Finn had gone. Puck felt a painful bolt of something shoot through his stomach, and he braced himself to listen to Kurt say something about Finn, which was the last thing that Puck needed. "Finn's going to hog the bathroom; we need to start getting changed and ready for our performance _right_ now!"

A startled bolt of laughter surged from Puck's lips as Kurt grabbed their large duffle bags and started dragging him down the hall toward the nurse's office, where they could get ready away from prying eyes. Kurt wasn't looking in Finn's direction at all. His hand was warm in Puck's own, and that was worth more than anything in that moment.

**888**

"I feel like I'm going to puke," Puck said, clenching his fists. "Regionals wasn't even this bad."

"You're right – it was _worse_," Kurt said flatly as he finished up his own makeup (he'd done Puck's for him moments before). "Stop being such a damn baby." Puck snorted, shifting uncomfortably in his costume.

"Remind me why we have to wear so many clothes under the stage lights, anyway?" he said, knowing that it'd distract Kurt and Kurt would do that _look_, which he did right away.

"Because the only way we can fit in costume changes is to wear the next costume underneath the first; you _know_ that!" He finished off his makeup and turned around. "Is everything in position?"

Puck's mouth went completely dry. He'd seen Kurt's costumes before and they'd played the dress-up part before, but this was…this was it. And tonight wasn't just the competition. It was the end of this _thing_ between the two of them, or it could be the beginning of something different…something else.

"Kurt…" he whispered, and when did the air get sucked out of the nurse's office? Kurt seemed to feel the tension as well, and they gravitated toward each other like gravity. "It's the end of the month, you know," Puck said after a moment, and it looked like a light died in Kurt's eyes.

"Right. After tonight, you win," Kurt said, some of the life out of his voice. Puck silently cursed himself; why did he have to be so useless with words?

"I don't think I win," he said instead. Kurt sent him a questioning look. "What if I want to trade what I get in for something better?"

"Like what?" Kurt asked, sounding so small and insecure.

"Like this," Puck said, and he finally, _finally_ kissed him.

Noah Puckerman's first kiss had been when he was nine years old and he and the other kids in his neighborhood were being watched by one of the old Jewish mothers who had a thing for daytime soap operas. He and Marie had tried to imitate the sloppy adult kisses they'd seen on screen, with varying success.

Kissing Kurt Hummel was something like nothing that Puck had ever experienced. It was so chaste, because neither of them knew what they were doing or how they were feeling or where the hell this was going. But when his lips brushed so lightly against Kurt's, so firm and no matter how full and soft undeniably _male_, Puck felt a tingling experience like nothing he'd felt before racing up his spine like a jackrabbit. Kurt gasped and pulled away, their hands intertwined.

"Noah," he sighed Puck's name like a prayer, and Puck held his hands tighter.

"Kurt – you wanna go out with me?" Puck asked, trying for his trademark cocky grin. From the expression on Kurt's face, he hadn't quite succeeded.

"Oh, you stupid, stupid, wonderful moron," Kurt sighed. "Of _course_ I want to…"

"…but?" Puck asked, his heart in his throat. If he heard Finn's name leave Kurt's lips, he knew that he'd probably punch through the window.

"Ask me _after_ we win," Kurt said, that private grin lighting up his face like candlelight, and Puck grinned as they shook on it solemnly. He was still grinning when time seemed to slip by and suddenly they were splitting up – they'd enter the stage from opposite sides when it was their turn. He sat down next to Quinn with a silly, stupid expression on his face.

"You're _glowing_," she accused. But she just took his hand in hers and didn't ask questions. Puck wouldn't have had a good answer for her anyway – he wasn't poetic, and he didn't know how to describe the feeling he had that his heart would let him jump up and run so fast that his feet would leave the ground.

When the curtains parted to reveal an empty stage and the large audience outside began to applaud, his stomach clenched but nothing could bring him down as he whispered, "Showtime."

**888**

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to William McKinley High School's first glee club competition!" Mr. Schuester boomed out as he stood on stage in what seemed to be his one and only suit. "As your programs will tell you, this night _is_ being recorded, and we are taking orders for those who want DVD's; just sign your name, phone number and address to one of the order forms at the booth on the way out.

"I personally want to thank you all so much for showing your support for this truly amazing group of performers. There's nothing that I can say that can justify the incredible talents of these students, so, without further ado, let's start the show!" He led the audience on a round of enthusiastic applause. "For our first performance of the night, please give a round of applause to Miss Rachel Berry and Mr. Matt Rutherford!"

The lights dimmed briefly as Matt bumped Puck's fist and stepped out to take his place, where Rachel was already waiting. It was too dark to see their costumes yet, as a swell of dramatic music began. Then the lights lit up, and Puck stared at Rachel – so _that's_ what Kurt and Carole had been sewing.

Rachel looked stunning in a dark, black, tight-fitting T-shirt scrawled with silver hip-hop logos that was ripped in artful places, displaying small swatches of her skin. She'd decorated her skin with silver glitter paint and used makeup to make her eyes pop. Her skirt was a gorgeous, wispy and delicate green that flared out almost like those little girl mermaid Halloween skirts, a look enforced by the glittering green ballet flats she wore on her feet. She looked ethereal, and had chosen blue lighting to reinforce the sea imagery, though there were constantly flickering and moving lights burning like starlight over the stage. Matt was dressed in a tux that had been artfully torn and painted with reflective silver, that shone elegantly in the light as he and Rachel moved into a perfectly synchronized ballet dance over the graceful music.

They spun and twirled, hands and legs weaving a complex language between the two of them as the lights created the illusion of the two of them being moved further apart. That was when Rachel sighed, glanced down, then looked up and opened her mouth to begin singing a familiar melody.

_Oh, what would I give – if I could live out of these waters?_

_What would I pay to spend a day warm on the sands?_

_I'll bet up on land they understand that they don't reprimand their daughters –_

_Bright young women, sick of swimming – ready to stand!_

She leapt high into the air as she hit the high note, while Matt slid liquidly into a slow dance by himself, the two of them separated by contrasting lights – two worlds, an undeniably effective stage image.

_And ready to know what the people know!_

_Ask them my questions, and get some answers:_

_What's a fire, and why does it (what's the word) burn?_

_When's it my turn?_

_Wouldn't I love, love to explore that shore up above?_

As her powerful voice soared to the rafters with amazing power, she sank down dejectedly to her knees, going soft and small as she near-whispered:

_Out of the sea_

_Wish I could be_

_Part of that world…_

She turned to look mournfully at Matt, and they reached for each other, only to have the lights go crazy, separating them further, as the tempo kicked up furiously, and Matt began to dance furiously as Rachel lay on her back and sang toward the ceiling:

_And could we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?_

_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_

_Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?_

_I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now_

And that was when Matt flipped into full-out hip-hop, busting a move as the lights glowed on him, and he opened his mouth. To be fair, Matt had never _wanted_ a solo, or shown any indication that he had, so Puck felt justified when his mouth dropped open as Matt's powerful baritone rang huskily through the enraptured audience.

**I could use a dream or a genie or a wish  
To go back to a place much simpler than this  
'Cause after all the partyin'  
The smashin' and crashin'  
And all the glitz and the glam and the fashion  
And all the pandemonium and all the madness  
There comes a time when you fade to the blackness  
And when you're starin' at that phone in yo' lap  
And hopin', but them people never call you back  
But that's just how the story unfolds  
You get another hand  
Soon after you fold  
And when your plans unravel in the sand  
What would you wish for if you had one chance?  
So airplanes airplanes  
Sorry I'm late  
I'm on my way  
So don't close that gate  
If I don't make that  
Then I switch my flight  
And I'll be right back at it  
By the end of the night**

Rachel leap to her feet as their moves mirrored each other perfectly despite the distance between them, breaking down into a complicated hip-hop/ballet mashup that reminded Puck strongly of the time his mother and sister had conned him into watching _Save the Last Dance_ from start to finish. It was beautiful, and even more so when their voice joined together strongly.

_**Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?**_

_**I could really use a wish right now, wish right now, wish right now**_

_**Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?**_

_**I could really use a wish right now!**_

They both spun toward each other, till they were a mere foot from each other, their hands lifted, almost like mimes pressing outward to the invisible box, longing on each of their faces as they closed the distance between them, the music upswelling to an epic Broadway finish as their voices joined together once more in wonderful harmony, Rachel's soprano gaining even more power over Matt's backing bass:

_**I don't know when**_

_**I don't know how**_

_**But I know something's starting right now**_

_**Watch and you'll see**_

_**Someday I'll be**_

_**Part of your world!**_

They moved forward into a stage kiss as the lights dimmed, allowing them time to leave the stage. The audience roared their approval as Puck stared at the stage, stunned. Quinn was maintaining a death grip on his hand. "I was _so_ hoping she'd trip," Quinn muttered, and Puck let out a hoarse bark of laughter as a flushed Matt headed backstage with them, and they quietly congratulated him so as not to have their microphones translate them saying "Good job!" to the entire audience.

"Wow!" Mr. Schuester said, taking the stage again, leading some more applause. "And now, onto the next group – let's give it up for Miss Quinn Fabray and Mr. Artie Abrams!"

Quinn gave Puck a hand squeeze before standing up and waiting for the lights to go up. The stage was empty, save for Artie, who was draped lazily over his wheelchair, which was decorated in honor of the occasion as a sort of mystical throne. He was wearing their rocker clothes from the mash-ups contest, strumming along to his guitar. Puck nervously stood up, hoping Kurt wouldn't be mad that he hadn't told him he was part of Quinn's act. He was wearing a big white robe over his real costume, so he wouldn't reveal his and Kurt's act before it was time.

Now, Quinn stomped on stage as he followed after her. She was wearing the same costume as he was, and the audience chuckled – the looked like wannabe Branch Davidians, which was pretty much what Quinn was shooting for.

"Come _on_, baby – why would you even wanna read those books when all you gotta look at is right here?" he cheesily grinned and flexed for the audience, who applauded appreciatively. They were really reeling them in tonight, and Puck fed on the audience's energy happily.

"Why don't you go _away_!" she cried angrily.

"I just wanted to marry you and make babies!" he cried. Quinn shrieked in disgust and stomped toward the head of the stage, tossing her hood back and flipping her hair out of its ponytail, swinging her head till her hair was messy and rebellious-looking.

"He just asked me to _marry_ him!" she called out to the audience as the music started. Puck took his cue and got the hell off stage as all eyes turned to Quinn as Artie put his guitar in his lap and stopped playing, regarding her seriously. "Can you imagine? _Me_, the _wife_ of that _boorish_, _brainless_—"

_Madame Puckerman – can you just see it?_

_Madame Puckerman – his little wife?_

Quinn was really hamming it up, dancing as ridiculously as she could, overacting and overreaching as her voice, surprisingly powerfully, rose high into the audience in a way that would have made Mercedes proud of passing on her belting skills to her new bestie.

_No sir – not me; I guarantee it!_

_I want much more than this provincial life!_

Twirling in a sort of mix of ballet and freestyle, she threw her arms wide and cried:

_I want adventure in the great wide somewhere—_

_I want it more than I can tell!_

_And for once it might be grand_

_To have someone understand:_

_I want so much more than they've got planned…_

"Well, what _do_ you want?" Artie asked, moving forward slightly. Quinn jumped.

"Who are _you_?" she asked. Artie smiled.

"Your fairy godfather, obviously." He strummed a quick tempo on the guitar as the audience laughed.

"Whatever you're trying to sell, I have pepper spray in one of my pockets," Quinn warned him. More laughter; Quinn shook her fist at the audience and tried weaving in kung-fu positions.

"I'm being serious – I know everything there is to know about you," he said, pausing for effect. "Do you want me to prove it?"

"Sure," Quinn said challengingly.

Artie grinned and slammed down on his guitar, the amplifier kicking in as the rocker kids from the band joined in to a dark, almost gothic melody that Puck didn't recognize as the lights took on an eerie gleam, making the stage seem creepy for its lack of props or places to hide. Quinn backed away from Artie as his voice rang out as powerfully as ever. Puck was still sometimes surprised at the voice Artie hid in his nerd clothes and wheelchair.

**Have you ever yearned to go  
Past the world you think you know?  
Been enthralled to the call  
Of the beauty underneath?  
Have you let it draw you in  
Past the place where dreams begin?  
Felt the full breathless pull  
Of the beauty underneath?**

When the dark unfolds its wings  
Do you sense the strangest things?  
Things no one would ever guess  
Things mere words cannot express?

Quinn was staring at Artie, enthralled, as she whispered, "_Yes!_"

**Do you find yourself beguiled  
By the dangerous and wild?  
Do you feed on the need for the beauty underneath?  
Have you felt your senses surge  
And surrendered to the urge?  
And been hooked as you looked  
At the beauty underneath?**

When you stare behind the night  
Can you glimpse its primal might?  
Might you hunger to possess—  
Hunger that you can't repress?

Quinn spun into a dizzy circle as she began to sing, her high, sweet voice making the song somehow even creepier than it already was.

_Yes!_

_It seems so beautiful  
So strange yet beautiful  
Everything's just as you say_

_All of my most secret dreams—_

Artie cut in, his voice rising up in a powerful roar as he called:

**Now set yourself free!**

Quinn laughed happily as she threw her robe off, revealing a red T-shirt that had "freedom" scrawled on it in black and a pair of casual pants stained artistically with multicolored paint as the dark rock kicked up in a poppish, happier rock tune.

_Oh, I've been the girl with her skirt pulled high_

_I've been the outcast, never running, with mascara eyes_

_I see the world as a candy store_

_With a cigarette smile_

_Saying things you can't ignore_

_Like mommy, I love you_

_Daddy, I hate you_

_Brother, I need you_

_Lover, hey, screw you!_

_I can see everything_

_Here with my third eye_

_Like the blue in the sky!_

As she danced like she was going crazy, Artie's voice joined hers as they lifted in triumph over the stage:

_**If God is a DJ**_

_**Life is a dance floor**_

_**Love is a rhythm**_

_**You are the music**_

_**If God is a DJ**_

_**Life is a dance floor**_

_**You get what you're given**_

_**It's all how you use it**_!

Quinn sank into a bow as Artie gave the crowd the rock on signal before casually rolling off stage, leaving Quinn alone. Puck quickly ran back on stage, still in his white robe. "So, about that marriage thing?"

Quinn turned to him and stage-kicked him square in the balls as she skipped happily off the stage, letting the lights go dim as Puck hammed up the act as much as he could before falling, leaving an appreciative audience laughing and clapping and cheering as the lights dimmed out again.

Quinn pulled Puck into a fierce hug as Mr. Schue led the audience to wild cheers, laughing silently now that the ordeal was behind them.

"Well, we've certainly got some original song choices tonight!" Mr. Schuester called out, leading the audience to laughter. "But we sure aren't done yet, folks. So put your hands together for Miss Tina Cohen-Chang and Mr. Mike Chang!" The audience applauded as the lights went up, but the applause died down to see Tina, who was dressed up in a ridiculous Asian kimono with cameras and various stereotypically Asian tourist stamps all over her. Mike was dressed up like a punk off the streets of New York.

"Say, Tina, can I ask you a question?" he called out, his accent ridiculously overplayed.

"Sure thing," Tina said, matching his accent. It was almost funny, in a disconcerting sort of way; Puck could see the audience wondering if they should laugh.

"So, your last name is Cohen-Chang, and my last name is Chang. Are we related?"

"Mike, that's so racist! Not all Asians are related!" Tina said sniffily.

"Well, you're racist too – what about that all-Asian vampire school you want to go to? Could I go there?"

"No, stupid – we don't want people like _you_ to—"

"See!" Mike said triumphantly, bursting into song as the audience (and Puck, who hadn't heard the song yet) burst into surprised, halfway horrified laughter:

_You're a little bit racist!_

Tina bristled and came back at him:

**Well, you're a little bit too!**

_We're both a little bit racist!_

**Admitting it is not an easy thing to do**

_But I guess it's true_

**Between me and you**

_**I think everyone's a little bit racist sometimes**_

_**Doesn't mean we go around committing hate crimes**_

_**Everyone's a little bit racist  
Today.  
So, everyone's a little bit racist  
Okay!  
Ethinic jokes might be uncouth,  
But you laugh because  
They're based on truth.  
Don't take them as  
Personal attacks.  
Everyone enjoys them -  
So relax!**_

They both burst into laughter as they danced vaudeville can-cans around the stage while the audience was forced into shocked laughter.

"Okay, stop me if you've heard this one," Mike said excitedly. "There's a plane going down, and there's only one parachute, and on the plane there's a rabbi, a priest, and—"

"And a _black_ guy!" Tina crowed happily.

"Whatchoo talkin' 'bout, Tina?" Mercedes demanded, stalking on stage in – _holy shit, she's wearing a pimp costume_. And, there was Mercedes in an oversized purple velvet suit, complete with cane and bowler hat. "You were tellin' a _black_ joke, weren't you?" Her 'thug' voice was thick and angry, and Puck watched, enthralled.

"Well, sure, Mercedes, but lots of people tell black jokes," Mike said carelessly.

"I don't," Mercedes said coldly.

"Well, of course _you_ don't; you're black," Mike said dismissively. "But I'll just bet you tell Polack jokes, right?"

"Well, sure I do – those stupid Polacks!" Mercedes cackled.

"Now, don't you think _that's_ a little racist?" Mike led on.

"Oh…um…I guess you're right," Mercedes said thoughtfully.

Mike smiled as the music kicked on again and Tina chimed in:

**You're a little bit racist!**

Mercedes glared.

Well, you're a little bit, too!

Mike joined right back in:

_We're all a little bit racist!_

I think that I would have to agree with you

_**We're glad you do!**_

It's sad but true

_**If we all could just admit  
That we are racist a little bit,  
Even though we all know  
That it's wrong,  
Maybe it would help us  
Get along**_

As they all began to move into a little-kiddie dance, various parts of their ridiculous costumes began to fall off while the music swelled.

_**Everyone's a little bit racist  
It's true.  
But everyone is just about  
As racist as you!  
If we all could just admit  
That we are racist a little bit,  
And everyone stopped being  
So PC  
Maybe we could live in -  
Harmony!**_

As they hit the last note, however, all three of them lifted up signs hidden in their costumes that, when put together, spelled in huge letters, STEREOTYPES SUCK! A tad unsure, the audience applauded as Mr. Schuester took the stage again while the three of them scampered off.

"Well, that was certainly original – and a good message!" The audience applauded a little louder (Puck, for his part, was still staring dumbstruck at the stage while Quinn buried her face in her hands and tried desperately not to laugh). "Let's all give a warm hand to guest performer Mercedes Jones!" The audience cheered a little louder. "And now, for the fourth of tonight's acts, we bring to the stage Miss Santana Lopez and Miss Brittany…um…Brittany!"

Quinn rolled her eyes skyward as Santana and Brittany took the stage before the lights could go. Santana took Schue's microphone from him before he could step out. "I just wanted to let you all know that our performance will feature the Cheerios and the football players. If these people haven't shown up tonight to do their part, bad things will happen to them." She glared menacingly at the audience, and Puck and the others backstage watched, shocked, as, sure enough, Dave Karofsky and his cronies took the stage along with five of the Cheerios, all getting into rehearsed position. He looked at Quinn, who looked just as confused.

_Damn_, he thought appreciatively as he caught the look on Karofsky's stupid face. Whatever Santana had on them to make them perform with a glee club performance must be _good_ – and it was also kind of shocking that she'd managed to keep it a secret from the rest of them for so long.

A familiar pop beat hit the stage as Santana and Brittany, in full Cheerio regalia, skipped innocently on stage, and Santana's surprisingly powerful, sultry voice belted out:

_My first kiss went a little like this:_

_Kiss, and twist_

_Kiss kiss and twist_

Brittany giggled and flipped her hair back as she sang out:

**Well, my first kiss went a little like this:**

**Kiss, and twist**

**Kiss kiss, and twist**

They began to dance in a borderline erotic stance as the Cheerios joined their movements and the jocks swayed to the beat.

_I said no more teachers  
And no more books  
I got a kiss under the bleachers  
Hoping that nobody looks  
Lips like liquorish  
Tongue like candy_

Azimio, of all people, stood up and belted out: "Excuse me, miss, but can I get you out your panties?" The teenagers in the audience were going wild with applause, and Puck stared as the jocks stepped forward and paired off with the Cheerios, dancing and actually singing the lyrics:

In the back of the car  
On the way to the bar  
I got you on my list

At the foot of the stairs  
With my fingers in your hair  
Baby, this is it

Cackling, Santana and Brittany took center stage and led the group in a perfectly synchronized party dance as they led them on the chorus:

_**She won't ever get enough  
Once she gets a little touch  
If I had it my way,  
You know that I'd make her say  
Ooooooh  
Ooooooh**_

She won't ever get enough  
Once she gets a little touch  
If I had it my way,  
You know that I'd make her say  
Ooooooh  
Ooooooh

Santana stood tall and cried out, "Ladies!"

The Cheerios stood behind Brittany and Santana and began to dance seductively as Brittany sang out:

**I'll meet you in the red room,  
Close the door and dim the lights  
I will be yours truly  
If indeed the price is right**

So throw your sword, be my king,  
Let your passions rise and sing  
Just show me the diamonds  
And I'll let you wear my ring

So just lay down beside me,  
Let us consummate  
I know you're bursting,  
Let me help you deflate

If you want to plug in  
For a high-voltage connection,  
Show me cold hard cash  
And I will turn on my affection

As the girls finished their dance the boys began a sort of tribal stomp as Santana took out a ridiculously large bottle full of red liquid which she began to spray on the boys. Brittany sprayed the girls with an identical bottle filled with purple liquid. They then sashayed to the front of the stage as the girls and boys danced in synch, counting down on their fingers. The music changed to a more rocking edge as the boys approached the girls and they began to dance-fight as Santana took the lead.

_He met Marmalade down in old Moulin Rouge  
Struttin' her stuff on the street  
She said, "Hello, hey Jo, you wanna give it a go?" Oh! uh huh_

As one Cheerio and one jock fell to the floor, Brittany sang out:

**He sat in her boudoir while she freshened up  
Boy drank all that Magnolia wine  
On her black satin sheets is where he started to freak yeah**

Two more fell as Santana rapped out strongly:

_He come through with the money and the garter belts  
I let him know we bout that cake straight up the gate uh  
We independent women, some mistake us for whores  
I'm sayin', why spend mine when I can spend yours?  
Disagree? Well that's you and I'm sorry  
Imma keep playing these cats out like Atari  
Wear high heel shoes get love from the dudes  
For bad ass chicks from the Moulin Rouge  
We drink wine with diamonds in the glass  
By the case the meaning of expensive taste_

As the last of the group around them fell to the ground, they two began to rob them of wads of Monopoly money as their voices rang together powerfully, finishing off the song:

_**Touch of her skin feeling silky smooth  
Color of cafe au lait alright  
Made the savage beast inside roar until he cried,  
More-more-more**_

_**Now he's back home doin' 9 to 5**_

_**Livin' a grey flannel life**_

_**But when he turns off to sleep memories creep,  
More-more-more**_

_**Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya dada (da daeaea yea)  
Giuchie, Giuchie, ya ya here (ooh)  
Mocha Choca lata ya ya (yea)  
Creole lady Marmalade**_

Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir (ce soir)  
Voulez vous coucher avec moi (all my sistas yea)  
Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir (ce soir)  
Voulez vous coucher avec moi (C'mon! uh)

As the music swelled triumphantly, they embraced, tossed the money in the air, and danced off the stage as the lights dimmed once more to wild applause. Mr. Schuester, looking somewhat flustered, called out, "Let's hear it for McKinley's athletes!" He managed to get some more applause from this. "Now, let's take it down a little bit with our next number, from Miss Mercedes Jones and Mr. Finn Hudson!" The audience erupted into more cheering as the lights went up on the stage to reveal Mercedes, now dressed in her diva clothes, all bright and drawing attention to herself, as she stood in front of five cardboard cutouts of celebrities – Puck could see actors and pop stars, all of them classily dressed in calm clothes.

A quiet piano echoed over the stage as Mercedes looked at a chalkboard that had RULES written on it in huge letters. Her gorgeous, powerful voice rang out as she sang sadly:

_Don't make me over  
Now that I'd do anything for you  
Don't make me over  
Now that you know how I adore you_

Don't pick on the things I say, the things I do  
Just love me with all my faults, that way that I love you  
I'm begging you

Don't make me over  
Now that I can't make it without you  
Don't make me over  
I wouldn't change one thing about you

Just take me inside your arms and hold me tight  
And always be by my side, if I am wrong or right  
I'm begging you

Don't make me over  
Don't make me over

_Accept me for what I am  
Accept me for the things that I do  
Accept me for what I am  
Accept me for __the things__ that I do!_

The choreography was simple, as Mercedes wandered from "person" to "person" as she begged one of them to look at her, to accept her, before she finally sank down to sit and pull her knees up to her chest as the piano moved into an almost mournful yet beautiful song, one that Puck thought he recognized as Finn came onto the stage. Finn was dressed in a torn-up tux, but not artfully so – it was almost sad.

**I am colorblind  
Coffee black and egg white  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready  
I am ready  
I am ready  
I am  
**

**Taffy stuck and tongue tied  
Stuttered shook and uptight  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready  
I am ready  
I am ready  
I am fine**

Mercedes glanced up hopefully at his voice as he came closer. When it looked like Finn was about to pass her, she took up the song.

_I am covered in skin  
No one gets to come in  
Pull me out from inside  
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding_

_I am colorblind_

Finn smiled and took Mercedes' hand, pulling her to her feet. They briefly embraced before casually knocked down the fake people, singing together as they walked offstage, the lights dimming around them in a simple yet powerful presentation:

_**I am  
colorblind  
Coffee black and egg white  
Pull me out from inside  
I am ready  
I am ready  
I am ready  
I am...fine  
I am... fine  
I am fine.**_

Puck tried as hard as he could to focus on the applause above anything else, and especially above the fact that Mr. Schuester was about to introduce him and Kurt. It was showtime, and Puck had the sense that everything was riding on this. He _had_ to prove to Kurt that he could do this in front of everyone. He _had_ to do this. They were going to win. Puck had to believe that more than anything else. He felt a roaring in his ears as Quinn hugged him fiercely as Mr. Schuester finished calling out:

"And now, our last presentation for tonight: Mr. Kurt Hummel and Mr. Noah Puckerman!" The applause rang out strongly as Puck took his place with the five other boys that Kurt had recruited from the dance school up in Macintosh, a town about five miles from Lima (one of the reasons the crowd was fuller than it might have been). The lights that the drama department had helped Kurt and him put up earlier lit up in eerie red as they spelled out HAUS OF GAGA, and the audience began to applaud enthusiastically as the minimal lighting lit up Kurt Hummel as he took the stage.

Kurt was wearing black leather pants and red heeled boots, with a biker jacket and Gaga's cigarette sunglasses from the "Telephone" music video. Puck, for his part, was in his first costume of the night, biker leathers like Kurt was wearing with silver armor plating and some foil placed artistically over his jaw like body armor. The violins kicked in as Kurt took center stage and Puck and the other boys moved in synch, swaying like a snake, as Kurt's high, clear voice, rang out powerfully:

_I know that we are young, and I know that you may love me – but I just can't be with you like this anymore, Alejandro!_

With that, he took center stage and froze into a Grecian statue pose as Puck and the other dancers moved into the incredibly difficult dance-fight that they had planned as Kurt began to sing:

_She's got both hands  
In her pocket  
And she wont look at you  
Won't look you at  
She hides through love  
En su bolsillo  
She got a halo around her finger  
Around you_

You know that I love you boy  
Hot like Mexico, rejoice  
At this point I gotta choose  
Nothing to loose

Puck threw the first punch, knocking back one boy as they all moved into what Kurt referred to as martial-arts ballet, which was actually a legitimate form. Puck concentrated hard on what he was doing – this was only the beginning, and he couldn't lose it here. As they all began to move, each trying to get close to Kurt and each failing, Kurt continued to sing, his voice deep and dark and husky rather than the high soprano Puck was used to. The effect was undeniably sexy as the lights flashed coldly over them.

_Don't call my name  
Don't call my name, Alejandro  
I'm not your babe  
I'm not your babe, Fernando_

Don't wanna kiss, don't wanna touch  
Just smoke one cigarette and run  
Don't call my name  
Don't call my name, Roberto

With each name called, one was struck down, until there was only Puck and other boy left, who Puck quickly dispatched as Kurt lifted his hands high and sang:

_Alejandro  
Alejandro  
Ale-ale-jandro  
Ale-ale-jandro_

Puck strode forward and arrogantly claimed his prize with a bruising stage-kiss that left the audience gasping, but they were leaning forward in their seats and Puck knew that they had them. Kurt shoved him away and smirked as he tossed his sunglasses aside, showing off his fierce stage make-up that made him look like a creature of the night as he unzipped his jacket, revealing light white beneath as he froze back into place, beckoning Puck on. The music amplified electronically as it bled into part two, as Santana and Brittany (dressed as a sinfully sexy devil and angel, respectively) took the stage to dance behind him as Puck threw his jacket off to reveal his tight white T-shirt that was stylized with the gothic cross logo from her "The Fame Monster" album.

**Your love is nothing I can't fight,  
Can't sleep with the man who dims my shine**

I'm in the bedroom,  
With tissues and when,  
I know you're outside banging then I won't let you in  
'Cause it's a hard life, with love in the world,  
And I'm a hard boy,  
Loving me is like chewing on pearls

He settled into a threesome dance between Brittany and Santana, his eyes locked on Kurt, as he sang out:

**You've got me wandering why I,  
I like it rough I,  
I like it rough I,  
I like it rough**

The electronica darkened and became club hop as Puck and Kurt slowly walked toward each other, Kurt discarding his leather jacket for a shear white button-up that glittered in the lights and revealed something red underneath, shifting as he moved; Puck and Kurt moved together into a tightly controlled dance bursting with tension as Mercedes and Tina, in their Gaga costumes, sang out:

I'm so starstruck

Baby could you blow my heart up

I'm so starstruck

Baby could you blow my heart up

_Baby now that were alone gotta request  
Would you make me number one on your playlist?_

Got your Dre headphones with the leftside on  
Wanna scratch me back and forth back and forth?Uh huh

Put your hands on my waist pull the fader  
Run it back with original flavor  
Get the breakdown first  
Up until the chorus  
To the verse  
Re-ke-re-ke-Reverse

Puck spun Kurt around as they began to dance in a more violent, frenzied manor as Puck rapped out what Mercedes had taught him, turning sex into a weapon as they began to dance together, moving towards a violent conclusion.

**Hey baby like really, really is that him  
I done seen you before what you got on them big rims  
Enter that cash flow, I'm like baby you dont trip**

So shawty say hand over your signature right here  
Like adjust the dotted line and I suppose to sign  
How he at it, a fanatic and I think it's goin down  
He so star struck, the gal all stuck  
I should have had an overdose too many Starbucks

Ain't never seen a balla, paper that stack taller  
Notice who let the top back on the Chevy impala  
Hummers and all that fully loaded with two spoilers  
What did you call that when you showed up with two dollars

But that's another chapter, son of a bachelor  
All on me, just spotted a baby actor  
Complete swagga, they go the dagga  
Got what he wants, shawty happily ever after

_I'm so Starstruck  
Baby cause you blow my heart up  
_**I'm so Starstruck  
Baby cause you blow my heart up**

They split apart as the tempo sped up considerably and all of the glee girls, in full Gaga regalia, stormed the stage and began to dance in unison as the boy dancers from the beginning, now dressed like Puck, began to dance in unison, completing the routine it had taken more than three weeks to perfect, as Kurt sang out:

_I wanna hold em' like they do in Texas please  
Fold em' let em' hit me raise it baby stay with me (I love it)  
Luck and intuition play the cards with Spades to start  
And after he's been hooked I'll play the one that's on his heart_

Puck danced behind him and grabbed him forcefully, starting a fight as he sang:

**I wanna roll with him a hard pair we will be  
A little gambling is fun when you're with me  
Russian Roulette is not the same without a gun  
And baby when it's love if it's not rough it isn't fun,**

Together, as they began to fight and kiss and break apart seamlessly, they belted out:

_**Can't read my,  
Can't read my  
No he can't read my poker face  
(He's got to love nobody)  
Can't read my  
Can't read my  
No he can't read my poker face  
(He's got to love nobody)**_

The music kicked up, heightening the tension as they stormed away from each other, Puck to the boys and Kurt to the girls, as Kurt once more took the lead:

_Hello hello baby you called  
I can't hear a thing  
I have got no service  
In the club, you say? say?  
Wha-wha-what did you say huh?  
You're breakin' up on me  
Sorry I cannot hear you  
I'm kinda busy  
K-kinda busy  
K-kinda busy  
Sorry I cannot hear you I'm kinda busy_

Just a second  
It's my favorite song they're gonna play  
And I cannot text you with a drink in my hand, eh?  
You shoulda made some plans with me  
You knew that I was free  
And now you won't stop calling me  
I'm kinda busy

With that, the girls kicked in with him, raising their voices in an enraged chorus as they danced in synch, each move a warning to back off. Puck, getting into it, strutted with the boys as the girls sang:

_Stop callin'  
Stop callin'  
I don't wanna think anymore  
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor  
Stop callin'  
Stop callin'  
I don't wanna talk anymore  
I left my head and my heart on the dance floor_

Puck shoved his way forward to center stage, dethroning Kurt, who sent him a furious glare as the audience cheered, enthralled.

**Boy the way you blowing up my phone  
Won't make me leave no faster  
Put my coat on faster  
Leave my boys no faster  
I shoulda left my phone at home  
'Cuz this is a disaster  
Calling like a collector  
Sorry, I cannot answer**

Kurt shoved Puck and sang:

_Not that I don't like you  
I'm just at a party  
And I am sick and tired of my phone r-ringing_

Puck got in Kurt's face and sang right back:

**Sometimes I feel like I live in grand central station  
Tonight I'm not takin' no calls  
'Cuz I'll be dancin'**

They kissed once more before Puck forcefully threw Kurt to the ground and the music cut off abruptly, the boys gathering around Puck as the girls gathered around Kurt, surrounding him and cutting him off from view as they removed his leather pants (it had taken Carole a bitch of a time sewing zippers on the inseams for this, but it was worth it) and his overshirt, so when Kurt rose up in a graceful ballet pose to begin the next song, he was wearing Gaga's lacy red outfit from the end of "Bad Romance" as Puck had the white bear-skin cape draped around him along with the sunglasses (_how_ Kurt had found the replica in time, Puck still had no idea), till they were facing each other as Kurt sang out:

_Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!  
Caught in a bad romance  
_**Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!  
Caught in a bad romance  
**  
_Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!  
Roma-roma-mamaa!  
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!  
Want your bad romance  
_  
_**Rah-rah-ah-ah-ah-ah!  
Roma-roma-mamaa!  
Ga-ga-ooh-la-la!  
Want your bad romance**_

As the girls and the guys began the dance-fight choreography again, Puck and Kurt took center stage, each romantic entanglement of their dance moves belied by a cruel punch or kick or slap, abusing each other as much as they embraced, the audience enthralled as they built toward the finale.

_I want your ugly  
I want your disease  
I want your everything  
As long as it's free  
I want your love  
_(Love-love-love I want your love)  
  
**I want your drama  
The touch of your hand  
I want your leather-studded kiss in the sand  
I want your love  
Love-love-love  
I want your love  
**(Love-love-love I want your love)

_I want your horror  
I want your design  
'Cause you're a criminal  
As long as you're mine  
I want your love  
_(Love-love-love I want your love-uuhh)

**I want your psycho  
Your vertigo stick  
Want you in my rear window  
Baby you're sick  
I want your love  
Love-love-love  
I want your love  
**(Love-love-love I want your love)

**I want your love and  
I want your revenge  
I want your love  
I don't wanna be friends  
**  
_Je veux ton amour  
Et je veux ta revanche  
J'veux ton amour  
I don't wanna be friends  
_**Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!  
**_I don't wanna be friends  
_(Caught in a bad romance)  
_I don't wanna be friends  
_**Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!**  
_Want your bad romance_  
(Caught in a bad romance)  
_**Want your bad romance!  
**_  
_**I want your love and  
I want your revenge  
You and me could write a bad romance**_  
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh!  
_**I want your love and  
All your lovers' revenge  
You and me could write a bad romance**_

Oh-oh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh-oh-oh-oh-oh!  
_Want your bad romance  
_**(Caught in a bad romance)  
**_Want your bad romance!_

Cutting off the song early, Kurt mimed stabbing Puck as he turned to face the crowd and stabbed himself, collapsing to the ground as fake red rose petals scattered from the ceiling, the lights and the stage going dark save for the flickering of flames the stage lights created the illusion of in the back. The spotlight lit up one final time to reveal Quinn, coming forward in her pink orbital dress, only she'd traded in her jeweled ornament for a black rose as she softly sang out:

I know that it's complicated  
But I'm a loser in love  
So baby raise a glass to mend  
All the broken hearts  
Of all my wrecked up friends

I'll never talk again  
Oh boy you've left me speechless  
You've left me speechless so speechless

I'll never love again,  
Oh friend you've left me speechless  
You've left me speechless, so speechless…

With that, she trailed off, the lights going out as the music faded away into nothingness, leaving the stage in silence. Puck waited from his position on the floor as after a moment the entire auditorium rang with thunderous applause. That was their cue to scamper, and they had hit everything perfectly, so Puck was surprised when Kurt's hand forcefully stopped him from leaving, his lips colliding with Puck's in a kiss that left him breathless. When Puck opened his eyes, the lights were up, the crowd was cheering, and he felt like he was on top of the world.

Kurt's eyes were glowing with happiness, and just for that one moment, nothing was important but the feelings flowing through them. Puck kissed Kurt, and the world fell away toward something new.

**The End. (KIDDING)**

**A/N:** Almost fooled you there, didn't I? Next chapter will be much fluffier, for all you relationship shippers, so don't you worry! I'm going to do the soundtrack post character by character, so here it all is:

**Rachel/Matt: "Part of Your World" / "Airplanes" / "Part of Your World (Reprise)"** – Both parts of "Part of Your World" obviously come from "The Little Mermaid" and "Airplanes" is by B.o.B. featuring Hayley Williams of Paramore; BTW, if you haven't heard the Broadway soundtrack to "The Little Mermaid," Sierra Boggess' Ariel kicked the movie's ass. Just sayin'.

**Quinn/Artie: "Belle (Reprise)" / "The Beauty Underneath" / "God Is a DJ" – **"Belle" is from "Beauty and the Beast"; "The Beauty Underneath" is from Andrew Lloyd Webber's epic new sequel to "The Phantom of the Opera" titled "Love Never Dies" (it isn't as good as "Phantom", naturally, but it's an extremely good show); and "God Is a DJ" is by the ever-epic P!nk (the lyrics just fit Quinn so naturally)

**Tina/Mike: A bastardized version of Avenue Q's "Everyone's a Little Bit Racist"; I toned it down to keep it at a T rating and I was thinking of how much Schue would allow them to fit into a school showing without canning the idea.**

**Santana/Brittany: "My First Kiss" / "Meet Me in the Red Room" / "Lady Marmalade" - ** "My First Kiss" is by 3OH!3 featuring the talentless whore Ke$ha (sorry, I just genuinely dislike her, but this song is catchy and so very Santana); both "Meet Me" and "Lady" come from the stunning movie "Moulin Rouge!"

**Mercedes/Finn: "Don't Make Me Over" / "Colorblind" – **Mercedes actually sang "Don't Make Me Over" in one of the first 13 episodes, but it was cut from the broadcast (I'm assuming we'll see it when season one is released on DVD); it was included on the Vol. 2 soundtrack and it was so lovely I wanted it on here; "Colorblind" is by Counting Crows and most of you probably know it from its use on the "Cruel Intentions" soundtrack (I love that movie)

**Puck/Kurt: The Gaga Tribute! Exhaustingly, they did a mash-up of: "Alejandro" / "I Like It Rough" / "Starstruck" / "Poker Face" / "Telephone" / "Bad Romance" and then Quinn sang a section of "Speechless". Did I go a little overboard? Probably. But you know what? Kurt would have too; I have faith.**

Reviews/feedback is craved and loved and inspires further chapters!

Coming up next: Fluff! Get-togethers! Music from "Enchanted"! An ambush on Quinn! Puck's "meet the parents" official dinner! An unexpected performance from Kurt! And much more!

See you all next time!


	11. 11 That's How You Know

**A/N:** So, there's only going to be fifteen chapters of this story, so this is one of the final five chapters. Unfortunately, real life has been beating the hell out of me lately, so I'm trying hard to not let that affect the writing/updating of this until the end. Let's give another huge shoutout to the incomparable Lady Gaga, whose music totally inspired this story and has kept it going through the spare times.

(Yes, I totally bought _The Remix_ and _The Cherrytree Sessions EP_ when they came out. Sigh.)

Once again, I really want to thank the people who've reviewed and favorited and alerted and all the other bells and whistles that encourage me to keep writing; and thanks to all those just readers too – I'm glad that you've enjoyed the ride so far, and I hope you enjoy hitting the ending as much as I'm enjoying taking you there.

**Warnings for this chapter: Some fluff. Some crack. Some domesticity. Some fluff. Some **_**crack**_**. I had fun and I hope you will too!**

With all of that out of the way let's crack on to:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

Chapter 11: That's How You Know

That weekend was about as long as the high lasted – he'd stayed over at Kurt's for the weekend with Quinn, Mercedes, Rachel, Artie and Tina, though after their performance Burt had been pretty adamant that Puck was sleeping on the couch, _far_ away from Kurt's bedroom. They'd all snickered at that (well, to be fair, Finn hadn't, but Kurt had tried to point out more than once that he wasn't being a bastard lately and Puck magnanimously stopped himself from shoving his tongue down Kurt's throat in Finn's presence afterwards). Carole was a gift from heaven, as far as Puck was concerned, because as soon as they'd all gone back to the Hudson-Hummel house Burt had hauled Kurt into a room and Carole had been the only one brave enough to go inside and calm Burt down.

While Burt was busy growling at Puck about keeping his "grubby paws _off_ my Kurt" (all while Kurt rolled his eyes and started discussing costume highs and lows with Mercedes and Quinn), the other parents started arriving at the house. Meeting Rachel's two fathers seemed to calm Burt down quite a bit; after they'd all retired to the kitchen with beers and much giggling, the teenagers headed towards Kurt's basement (Puck and Finn tried not to glare at each other while they carried Artie down the stairs, which, Quinn said later, was progress).

By the time Puck had finished helping to set up, Quinn and Kurt were giggling hysterically after downing a bit of wine that Tina had produced from god knew where, and had dressed up in bits and pieces of the cowboy costumes from New Directions' invitationals during the disastrous reign of April Rhodes, drunken diva extraordinaire, and Mike and Finn had been hauled up to dance with them as they blasted Madonna through Kurt's karaoke machine.

_Don't tell me to stop_

_Tell the rain not to drop_

_Tell the wind not to blow_

'_Cuz you said so, mmm_

_Tell the sun not to shine_

_Not to get up this time_

_Let it fall by the way_

_But don't leave me where I lay down_

_._

_Tell me love isn't true_

_It's just something that we do_

_Tell me everything or not but_

_Please don't tell me to stop_

Rachel, of course, commandeered the machine after that and belted out a startlingly throaty rendition of "Music," and then Santana broke out the hard drinks and started in on the glee club's newest favorite drinking game, "Take the Shot or Sing the Song."

It was the most fun that Puck had had in months. As the alcohol poured, the club's various animosities towards each other seemed to melt away, as they all took their turn singing ridiculously bad songs. Once Finn butchered his way through the first verse of "It's Raining Men" (blushing furiously and cheered on by a cackling Kurt, Quinn and Mercedes), a severely red-faced Artie engaged everyone in a game of charades.

It was when the somewhat tipsy adults came downstairs to find Quinn attacking Kurt with his collectible pair of Japanese sai swords ("Elektra!" Mike guessed; Rachel smacked him smartly and sang out "Chicago!" to which Quinn and Kurt gave a bow) that the party was called off. The teenagers were allowed to have a sleepover in Kurt's massive basement, provided that Quinn (who hadn't drank much (she'd somehow developed an aversion to wine coolers…)) promise Burt that no hanky-panky would go on. Burt glared hard at Puck, who tried to look innocent (he was failing miserably, especially considering that he'd ended up shirtless hours ago). "Mohawk can sleep on the _other_ side of the room," he growled.

"He doesn't even _have_ a Mohawk anymore!" Kurt protested.

"_And_ you!" Burt said relentlessly.

Carole quickly commandeered the adults to provide the inebriated teenagers with sleeping bags and quilts and pillows. It was quickly decided that Artie would get the foldout couch because he had to sleep a certain way to help with his spine. Tina tenderly helped him tuck into the bed that he was sharing with Mike and Matt. Puck's mother was staring at them all with disapproval. Finn tried to put a hand over Kurt's mouth, but Kurt had staggered right over and said "I'm sorry you disapprove of me," in that bitchy way that he had of talking down to people.

"It's certainly not _that_, dear," Mrs. Puckerman said irritably. "We belong to a reform Temple. I just don't understand how _my son_ can stand there so peacefully while his freakishly tall friend makes away with _the only Jewish girl he's ever dated!_" Her outrage made her swell to an impressive degree. Kurt threw Puck a smirk and leaned in.

"You know, Rachel's not even Jewish," Kurt said craftily, his innocent voice fooling no one but Mrs. Puckerman. Even Rachel's dads had paused to watch at this point.

"She's not?" Mrs. Puckerman asked, her slight inebriation lending to her confusion.

"No – she was just raised that way. But, as I'm sure you can tell by her absolute lack of fashion sense, she's going through a bit of a crisis right now. As a matter of fact, I heard her not the other day talking about converting to…well…" Kurt trailed off, his innocent baby blues glancing down shamefully.

"_What_?" Mrs. Puckerman whispered, leaning in.

"_Catholicism_," Kurt said grimly.

"Oh…dear," the woman murmured, leaning back. She shot Rachel a dirty look while the poor girl just stood there, her mouth working like a fish but with no sound coming out. "Tell me, Kurt, how are your grades? Do you do any drugs? Are you secretly part female enough to produce a non-Jewish baby?"

"A's, no and hell no," Kurt rang off happily.

"Well. We may just have to keep you around," she conceded after a moment. "We all must have dinner next week – perhaps you could join us for our Jewish heritage movie night!" She clapped her hands and headed up the stairs after the chortling Berrys.

"Kurt!" Quinn said, hands on her hips.

"I think she likes me," Kurt stage-whispered to Puck, who was standing as stunned as if he'd just been hit by a pan.

"Dude. You need to not drink," Finn pointed out.

"I only threw a glass at you that _one_ time!" Kurt cried, aggrieved.

"He threw a glass at you?" Santana asked, looking up from where she and Brittany were making a nest of pillows and Kurt's stuffed animals on the floor.

"All I was doing was my Spanish homework—" Finn launched into his story, but Kurt glared at him and overrode him.

"If you call _that_ butcher job homework! He said the people of Bologna danced in their pants from Friday – and he said it _wrong_!"

"So you threw a glass at his head?" Tina asked.

"And they say _I'm_ a mean drunk," Mercedes muttered.

"Is _that_ what happened to my favorite Falcons mug?" Burt hollered from the foot of the stairs, dropping the stack of pillows he'd been carrying to glare at his son.

"Did someone say 'sleep'?" Kurt yawned, flashing his innocent baby eyes at his father. "'M _sooo_ sleeeeepy," he added for extra emphasis.

"And you're a terrible liar," Carole informed him with twitching lips. "But you all _should_ get to sleep – especially if you expect to get up early enough for me to make you all a hangover remedy before my shift tomorrow."

It was enough to get everyone scrambling into their beds. Quinn gave Burt an angelic look as she climbed into bed with Kurt, which melted Burt enough to give Puck one last glare before following Carole upstairs. Quinn swapped sides with Kurt so that Puck could lie on the floor next to the bed, where Kurt's hand lay innocently waiting for Puck to hold. Maybe it was the glow of a good buzz, but Puck felt like he was falling asleep in a warm glow; despite the adults' best intentions the glee club had partnered up as best it could. Tina had stolen Puck's idea and lay by Artie's side; Matt was already snoring as Mike turned to keep Quinn in his sights, which had the golden girl smiling slightly as her eyes drifted closed; Rachel and Finn were curled into a strange ball by the stairs; and Brittany and Santana had fallen asleep with their hands curled together and their lips barely touching.

While Kurt's fingers lightly toyed with Puck's own as the smaller boy succumbed to sleep, Puck had never felt better about anything.

**888**

Saturday, of course, dawned bright and ugly as Burt Hummel took an intensely evil pleasure in stomping down the stairs loud enough to wake everyone up and have them all groaning and clutching their heads as he threw open all the blinds. When the light hit Puck's eyes he almost felt like weeping as a jackhammer started up in the back of his head. "Urgh," he moaned, clutching his head as Burt glared at him until he dropped Kurt's hand.

"So, how does everyone feel?" Carole asked, coming downstairs with equal sympathy (which is to say, none). "Has anyone puked yet?"

"Stop, please," Tina whimpered, clutching her stomach.

"Yeah, stop being a lightweight, Carole," Burt said cheerily. "Having the liquor shits are _so…much…worse…_"

"Oh my god," Finn moaned, and staggered toward Kurt's bathroom.

"You're cleaning that, you awkwardly tall freak!" Kurt yelled, sitting up. "And, _ow_," he whimpered. Puck could commiserate.

**888**

Shockingly enough, Puck's mom actually _believed_ Kurt's drunken spiel in the basement, and now that she thought that Rachel was a psychotic defector she welcomed Kurt into Puck's life with open arms. Naturally, that meant her benevolent smile of approval when Kurt came over Saturday night for traditional kosher Jewish supper before sobbing into Puck's shoulder for the finale of _The Boy in the Striped Pajamas_. Puck and Sarah both shot each other long-suffering sighs as they simultaneously handed Kurt and their mother tissues and settled back in their seats.

When Puck drove Kurt home that night, he teased him endlessly. "Shut up! That movie's _sad_, okay?"

"Okay. And I'm sure that when we get around to watching that massive collector's edition of _Titanic_ you'll be ruining my shirt that night too," Puck chortled.

"Only a cretin like _you_ wouldn't tear up at the end of _Titanic_. Why are we dating again?"

"Because you have a fetish for my nipple ring?" Puck asked innocently, before trying not to swerve into oncoming traffic when Kurt slugged him in the arm. Puck had learned early on that 'skinny' on Kurt actually translated into lean, hard muscle toned by a relentless Sue Sylvester.

"Don't make me wreck!" he whined. "The _last_ thing I need is your dad coming after me for getting you into a car accident."

"What? You mean Puckzilla the Great can't outrun a mechanic's shotgun blast? How disappointing," Kurt sighed.

"You're hilarious," Puck deadpanned.

"And _you're_ coming over tomorrow night. My dad wants to officially 'meet' my first ever boyfriend," Kurt said evilly when they'd pulled into his driveway. Puck's mouth dropped open in horror as Kurt patted his cheek condescendingly. "Don't wet yourself, sweetie." He let himself out and pranced up the stairs, his tight jeans doing obscenely right things to his backside, and Puck slammed his head into the steering wheel.

**888**

Quinn had rolled her eyes and dragged him to the attic where she and her mother had stuffed the last of her father's things to loan him a Polo shirt and a pair of dress slacks, along with some advice. "Burt isn't actually as scary as he comes off as – he's just insanely overprotective. So, be yourself in conversation: talk about sports, colleges, things like that. Avoid the following: any indication that Kurt is not virginal in any way, shape or form, any indication that _you_ are not virginal in any way, shape or form, refer to yourself in the third person, refer to yourself as Puckzilla, talk about your guns, or talk about your penis."

"But that's like half of a conversation!" Puck protested desperately.

"Why do I bother?" she asked, rolling her eyes skyward, before pecking him on the cheek for luck and booting him unceremoniously from her house.

"Bitch," he muttered mutinously.

"I heard that!" she trilled sweetly from the other side of the door. Puck rolled his eyes heavenward and turned around, stopping short at the sight of Santana, who was warily stepping out of her beat up old car. She glared at Puck as he stepped down off the porch.

"You look like a _fag_," she said viciously.

"Look who's talking, _dyke_," Puck shot back, and Santana jerked back. "You know, I'm sick of just sitting here and letting you scream at me just because _you_ can't deal with the fact that you just want to be with Brittany. And if you can't figure your own shit out, don't put it in _my_ face! And maybe you could tell Brittany that too, because I'm pretty sure she's getting tired of you treating her like shit."

"Fuck off, Puck! You don't get it!" Santana snarled, jerking away from him.

"No, I don't. I never _did_ get it. You are one of the craziest, most psychotic bitches I know!" Puck told her. "But you know what? I _like_ Kurt, and he likes me, and he's not gonna dump me because of my credit scores or because he thinks I'm a Lima loser. And if you can't just leave me the hell alone about it, then that's your problem, bitch, not mine."

"You know, Britt's the dumbest girl I know and she's the only one who doesn't treat me like I'm trailer trash in a shiny wrapper," Santana said, leaning against the hood of her car. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked so uncharacteristically weak that Puck got a little wigged out.

"So…why don't you just _tell_ her that? That's all she wants to know," he said reasonably.

"Jesus," Santana muttered, before she threw her arms around his neck. "If you ever tell _anyone_ about this I'll cut your balls off then shove a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire so far up your ass it'll come out your _throat_." With that parting shot, she turned around and hopped back in her car, driving away with a squeal of tires.

"Crazy _bitch_," Puck muttered, rubbing his neck mutinously. He was so caught up in thinking about Santana and what the hell she was doing now and whether or not she was crazy enough to follow through on that threat (he'd come up with the facts that he was glad they weren't dating anymore; that she was probably growing a pair and going to Brittany's house; and that she was _more_ than crazy enough to follow through) when he realized that he had automatically driven to the Hummels' house and that he now had to go through that front door and face down Burt Hummel.

Deciding that even his inner badass would never recover if Santana could follow through tonight and he couldn't, Puck resolutely put on his game face and went up to knock on the door. When he heard a shriek that sounded like Kurt, he instinctively shoved the door open and burst past a surprised Carole, until he heard a loud "OW!" followed by Finn's kicked-puppy whine voice drifting into the hall. "Kuuuurt, that _hurt_!"

"What are you, twelve? I said stay out of the dessert!" Kurt snapped back peevishly, and Puck started smiling until he realized that he was standing in the entrance hall with a stupid sappy grin on his face and that both Carole and Burt were watching him from the living room with identical smirks on their faces. _So, soo screwed_, Puck thought despairingly as Finn stumbled from the kitchen, nursing his head where it appeared Kurt had whacked him with a wooden spoon.

"Puck? You…look…uh…" Finn stuttered.

"Head wound hurt, son?" Burt asked happily. Finn frowned. "You should have stayed out of the dessert, believe me."

"Don't sound so happy, father dearest," Kurt said darkly, emerging from the kitchen and lightly wiping sweat away with a handkerchief, looking flawlessly put together as always. "Because that chocolate you pilfered earlier was actually a well-disguised nutritional diet bar." As Burt made a choking noise and Carole and Finn laughed at him meanly, Kurt stopped and smiled in a slightly mocking manner. "A pink polo shirt, Noah? Are you _gay_?"

Puck was the first to recover from the shocked silence that hit the living room by laughing. "You know, your mamma _knows_ about the _gaaay_!" he returned in a ridiculously fake Asian accent. "Your mamma _cool_!"

"Yeah, and if you don't pick up this call, that mean's you _gay_ – because only _gays_ screen their calls," Kurt finished. The others stared at them as they cracked up. "Margaret Cho," Kurt explained as he straightened.

"I think Mohawk is a bad influence on you," Burt said ominously.

"You think _everything_ is a bad influence on me," Kurt said with a long-suffering sigh.

"He doesn't think _I'm_ a bad influence on you," Finn said happily.

"You couldn't be a bad influence on _anybody_," Kurt said disparagingly. "You're about as threatening as melted cheese."

"I can be threatening!" Finn protested. When even _Carole_ was laughing at him, he started to pout.

"Dude, no offense, but your _girlfriend_ is scarier than you are," Puck told him.

"Damn straight," Burt said with a shudder. "I once asked the girl who Sarah Brightman was and I didn't escape the room for two _hours_."

"You kind of deserved that one," Kurt said slowly. "Considering the fact that you raised _me_."

"It's scary to think that you and Rachel aren't enemies any more," Puck said doubtfully. "You were bad enough when you were going after each other. Think of what it'll be like now that you halfway like each other for the rest of us."

"You'll be too plebian to understand the complexities of a true frenemies relationship," Kurt said loftily.

"Have you _met_ me and Quinn?" Puck asked. "And besides, you could've tried a better insult while we _weren't_ reading _Animal Farm_ in class. I would've gone with Philistine." Kurt stared at him in shock, his mouth working, when Burt surprised everyone and let out a booming laugh.

"Anyone who can get this brat tongue-tied is welcome at my dinner table," Burt declared. "And since Kurt's done _his_ nightly tradition of beating one of us with kitchen supplies before dinner, I think it's time we eat."

"It wouldn't be a _tradition_ if certain _people_ in this house could just wait until I _set_ the table," Kurt began, but the other three were already filing into the dining room and Puck watched with amusement as Kurt rolled his eyes skyward and went to help Carole bring out the dinner food.

Considering that this really was the first meet the parents dinner that Puck had ever actually gone to, he shocked himself by enjoying himself. Burt wasn't nearly as bad around food as he was around cars, and pretty soon the talk turned to football and who would be replacing Tanaka as football coach.

"What happened to that sweat factory?" Kurt asked while his foot innocently traced up Puck's calf. Puck smirked and returned the favor quietly.

"He heard Ms. Pillsbury call Schue a slut and start dating some random dentist and he completely lost it. He started talking to his whistles around school and then he assaulted a student when they told him he smelled like feet, and last I heard he was having a nice stay at the nuthouse," Finn told them all.

"Where do they _find_ the teachers at your school?" Carole asked wonderingly. "I don't remember McKinley being _this_ dysfunctional when _I_ was a teenager."

"No, when we were kids we just had the janitor who ate road kill," Burt reminded her.

"Oh, ew, old Auggie. I'd forgotten about him," Carole shuddered.

"He ate road kill?" Puck asked, staring up from his pasta.

"I once overheard him trying to convince the old nurse that opossum with mayo was the reason for his good health," Burt told them all.

"That's really gross," Finn said after a stunned silence.

"What is wrong with the people in this town?" Kurt wondered aloud, stroking the tops of Puck's feet with his own.

"You implying you ain't one of us, Princess?" Puck asked innocently as he trapped Kurt's foot with his.

"Ain't ain't a word, so don't say ain't," Finn chorused automatically. Carole sighed and sipped her wine.

After dessert, which was a chocolate cake that Kurt whined was full of calories before inhaling two slices of it, they all gravitated toward the door to see Puck out. Strangely enough, Burt was smiling when he said, "You aren't half bad, Puckerman. But let me tell you something – the goo goo eyes across the table I can deal with. Can it with the footsie under the table, though." Kurt's eyes widened as he and Puck froze. "Don't bullshit a bullshitter, kid," Burt said, clapping him on the shoulder. "And no more sleepovers for the two of you."

Puck laughed as the door shut on Kurt's flaming red face.

**888**

Monday they all had off, as it was a teacher workday, so when Kurt asked him to meet him and some of the others at Breadstix, the local date restaurant, Puck threw on some clean clothes and pulled into the parking lot at five. Quinn and Kurt were standing next to Mercedes' car as Rachel and Finn pulled into the parking lot. Finn went to help Mercedes snag tables while Rachel headed over to the three of them.

"How's it going, you naughty Catholic you?" Puck asked good-naturedly.

"Saying the rosary every night," Rachel shot back surprisingly swiftly.

"You've been spending _way_ too much time with Kurt," Puck noted with a soft smile.

"I could say the same about you, from what Finn says," Rachel said, but she didn't sound displeased by it all anymore.

"You two going out more?" Puck asked, testing the waters.

"All weekend," Rachel said happily. They were both smiling as they came up to Kurt, who looked like he was fighting back a smile as Quinn paced worriedly in front of him. Kurt's hand automatically sought out Puck's, and Puck fought down a sappy grin as he squeezed Kurt's fingers. God, he was getting as bad as Finn and Rachel with the romantic crap. How the hell had this happened?

"Stop laughing," Quinn snapped peevishly as she paced. "I'm serious, I think I'm being stalked!" She brandished a small bag. "Yellow flowers, and notes about how beautiful I am – if this is _your_ idea of a joke, it isn't funny!" she said, rounding on Puck suddenly.

"I have no idea what's going on," Puck said truthfully.

"Damn it!" Quinn cried, wringing her hands. Kurt rolled his eyes and he and Puck grabbed hold of her arms and all but dragged her into the restaurant against her violent protests. "Stop! Don't you see; this is just what the stalker asked me to do! I don't want to die in a restaurant that has a stuffed moose head on the wall! A stuffed _moose_ head! Where the hell do you _get_ one of those? I'm not dressed to die; I wanted to die in a white dress because it looks good on me! What if my stalker is ugly? Oh my god!" she moaned as Rachel opened the door for them.

By the time they reached the tables that Mercedes, Finn, Artie, Matt and Tina had commandeered for them, Quinn was glaring mutinously at them all and twisting her hands nervously. The others just laughed at her and drank their water while they waited for their menus to arrive. When none seemed forthcoming, Kurt stood up and said, "I'll just go see what's taking that waitress so long."

"He has something to do with this, I _know_ he does," Quinn said, glancing around in a paranoid sort of way at all of them. Puck discreetly moved her knife away from her place setting, and she glared at him before she brandished her fork threateningly. "I hate all of you," she moaned. "I'm going to die and none of you will listen to me!"

That was when the lights dimmed and then a tiny light appeared on Kurt, who had ditched his long sleeves for a light blue T-shirt and a James Dean sort of look. Puck realized with a start that for once there wasn't anyone else in the restaurant but them. The restaurant staff were all gathered around, watching Kurt, who lifted a microphone. "Quinn Fabray, someone here has a very special message for you," he said happily. Quinn gasped and glared at him as he nodded behind her, before she grew very still as a few piano tinkles trilled out and someone behind Kurt started singing.

_How does she know you love her?  
How does she know she's yours?_

Suddenly, Matt jumped up from the table and produced a microphone from God knew where as he joined in:

**How does she know that you love her?**

The voice continued:

_How do you show her you love her?_

The unseen singer, whose pleasant voice grew more powerful, joined in with Matt as he sang:

_**How does she know that you really, really, truly love her?  
How does she know that you love her?  
How do you show her you love her?  
How does she know that you really, really, truly love her?**_

That was when, to everyone's shock, Mike Chang danced into the spotlight, dressed in a Cheerio's uniform from who knew where, dancing his heart out as he stared straight at Quinn, a blush shading his cheeks as he took the solo, singing as loudly as he could.

It's not enough to take the one you love for granted  
You must remind her, or she'll be inclined to say...  
"How do I know he loves me?"

"How do I know he's mine?"

Well does he leave a little note to tell you that you are on his mind?  
Send you yellow flowers when the sky is grey?  
He'll find a new way to show you, a little bit everyday  
That's how you know, that's how you know  
He's your love...

Quinn gasped and dug in the little bag that she had brought with her, pulling out yellow flowers and the love notes that she'd been bitching about earlier. A blush stained her pretty cheeks as she stared at Mike, her lips trembling as her eyes brightened. Mike spun into a complicated, Michael Jackson-esque breakdown as Matt took over again.

**You've got to show her you need her  
Don't treat her like a mind reader  
Each day do something to need her  
To believe you love her**

Mike danced closer to the table as he started singing:

_Everybody wants to live happily ever after  
Everybody wants to know their true love is true...  
How do you know he loves you?_

_How do you know he's yours?_

Puck was a little surprised at how _good_ Mike was; he'd obviously spent a while practicing the song…then he saw how Kurt was mouthing along to the lyrics, and he suddenly knew who Mike's teacher was. Just how the hell Kurt had found the time alongside everything else was a mystery to Puck, but he was grinning as Kurt gestured to Mike, who suddenly swept Quinn up from the chair and pulled the giggling girl into a ballroom waltz.

_Well does he take you out dancing just so he can hold you close?  
Dedicate a song with words meant just for you?_

_He'll find his own way to tell you  
With the little things he'll do  
That's how you know  
That's how you know!_

_He's your love_

_Because he'll wear your favorite color  
Just so he can match your eyes  
Rent a private picnic  
By the fire's glow_

_His heart will be yours forever  
Something everyday will show  
That's how you know_

_That's how you know...  
That's how you know...  
He's your love!_

As Mike finished off triumphantly, he swirled Quinn into a dip and brought her up, and she certainly didn't seem to protest as his lips met hers in a sweet kiss. Puck surprised himself by applauding with everyone else, and he didn't miss how Kurt's eyes met his.

**888**

When school loomed in front of them, bright and ugly Tuesday morning, Puck pulled up to a parking lot filled with anticipation. He hopped out of his truck cheerfully and went to meet Kurt, who was standing next to the other glee clubbers. Mercedes looked like she was about to open her mouth, until Puck grabbed Kurt's hand and locked their fingers together tightly. Kurt glowed, and Puck grinned as Mercedes rolled her eyes and turned to talk to Tina, since Quinn and Mike were still gazing at each other with stars in their eyes on the other side of her.

Going into school, Jacob Ben-Israel darted off in the other direction, and Puck sighed as Kurt took one look at his face and snapped, "_No_, Noah. Leave the poor creature alone."

As they passed Karofsky, who looked like he was going to open his mouth, the jock thought better of it as Puck and Kurt glared at him viciously and the rest of the glee club raised challenging eyebrows. Glaring mutinously, the jock stomped off in the other direction.

The rest of the day passed quickly but strangely. Puck wasn't used to whispers following him in the halls anymore; he'd stopped being a topic of gossip when he'd joined glee and became an uninteresting geek in the eyes of the school. Still, when they all met up again for glee that afternoon, he didn't regret it at all as he sat down next to Kurt and they all waited for Mr. Schuester to start the meeting.

"Hey, everybody! I heard that you all had a good weekend, huh?" He glanced at Quinn and Mike, and everyone had a good chuckle, until he dug in his bag. "Well, I have to tell you, the video team did a great job – let's all hear a round of big applause for Artie's connections to the A/V club!" Artie took a mock bow. "Here are your DVD's of the performance!" He handed them out, and Puck was impressed at the cover art – a big mashup of the different performances, outlined by huge lettering that spelled out 'A New Directions Event'. "The quality is great, and I know that your parents were excited for it.

"But, I also need to remind you all that we haven't yet voted on the winner of the competition yet! I wrote all your names on these index cards, so," he continued, passing them out, "just write your vote for winner on the back of the card and then come up and put it on the piano, and I'll tally the votes. Remember – _no voting for yourselves_!"

Puck smirked as he wrote Brittany and Santana's names on his card, glancing over and starting in shock as he watched Kurt's elegant script spell out Rachel and Matt. "What? They were good," Kurt said, looking away. Puck nudged Kurt's shoulder with his and Kurt smiled and jostled back, getting up to put their cards on the growing pile. Once Finn had finally put his in, Mr. Schuester took out a piece of blank notebook paper and started writing down votes and numbers, until he looked up.

"Alright, guys! Now, remember, the top three teams will have their videos shown to the entire school, and the two winners will be able to dictate what glee does for the next four meetings. So, the votes have been tallied, and here's where we are: in third place, we have _Brittany and Santana_!" He paused as everyone applauded, and Brittany jumped up and down.

"I think we won something!" she cried exultantly. Santana just rolled her eyes and tugged on her hand, but Puck didn't miss the fact that their fingers were still tightly intertwined.

"In second place, missing first place by literally one vote, we have…_Matt and Rachel_!" Schue continued, and Rachel surprised everyone by hugging Matt and congratulating him on their success. Puck watched with bated breath, hoping against hope as Mr. Schuester grinned and called out, "And, the winner is _Kurt and Puck_!"

"Yes!" Puck hollered, leaping out of his seat with a whoop. Mercedes and Quinn and the others were clapping and cheering on his totally stupid victory dance, but Kurt was quiet, just sitting still with an odd little smile on his face. Puck grabbed his hand and hauled him up to dance with him, and Kurt just laughed and let Puck twirl him once and dip him in a bad attempt at the moves Mike was pulling yesterday. Kurt smiled softly and squeezed his hands as they all took their seats again.

"Yes, but I really just want to thank all of you – you guys really blew me away with your responses to this challenge. I think that we've all shown that there's so much that we can learn from each other and so much that all of you bring to this group as a whole. Friday night blew everyone in the audience completely away, including me. You guys really deserve—"

"Ice cream on Mr. Schue!" Puck declared.

"Hell yeah!" Santana echoed from the back, and Brittany clapped her hands. Before Mr. Schuester could say much else, the entire room was chanting "_Ice cream, ice cream, ice cream!_"

Puck thought that Schue looked more exasperatedly happy than irritated when he ended up leading the caravan of battered cars to the diner in the middle of town and buying everyone the buck-fifty vanilla dream cones they served. As they all lounged around in the bright sunlight on the park benches outside, Puck drew Kurt off to the side. "You okay?" he asked softly. Kurt was silent for a long moment, and Puck tried to keep patient as Kurt did obscene things to his ice cream cone with his mouth.

"Yeah. I guess I'm just…kind of in shock. I'm not used to winning anything. When…you're…like me, in this town…You have to fight for everything. And it's so strange; I was in such a different place a month ago, and now, where I am with you and with glee, it's like in some ways this has been the best month of my life. And I don't really know what to do with that. Good things don't happen to me all that much, so when they do I get scared and I freeze up." Kurt rested his head on Puck's shoulder, and Puck didn't say anything. He didn't know what he _could_ say. But it was almost like that feeling of responsibility that had settled over his shoulders when Quinn had gotten pregnant. Kurt trusted him now, maybe not enough to tell him what had led up to this whole thing yet, but…

"Hey, Princess," Puck said, nudging Kurt up. Kurt glared at him for daring to mess up his pillow, and Puck just laughed at him. "Betcha when we take over that you won't let me do a metal song."

"I'll have you know that I listen to a very eclectic range of music," Kurt told him.

"Oh, so _you'd_ rock out with me?" Puck challenged.

"I'd rock out _better_ than you," Kurt shot back.

"It's on like Donkey Kong for Friday?" Puck offered.

"After repressing the fact that you just said that, yes, I'll show you how it's done come Friday," Kurt told him. Puck just grinned.

**888**

As the spring heat gave way to full blown summer sunshine, a definite end of the year haze was settling over WMHS. It was a lazy sort of feeling, where certain students (such as Puck, for instance) spent most of the day fantasizing about just walking out to the football field, taking his shirt off and laying down in the grass until the sun lulled him to sleep. The week passed by quickly, and Puck felt like everything was finally settling down to a good sort of routine. He'd give Quinn a ride to school, during which time she'd heartily abuse him, before they split up to meet Kurt and Mike. Mercedes was busy texting some guy she'd met when her church had had a barbecue, so sometimes she'd join them and sometimes not.

Kurt was very precise during exam studying time, as he explained to Puck. "Julliard doesn't just look at singing and dancing and acting ability – they want to know that I've got what it takes academically and that I demonstrate hard work before they'll even agree to let me audition to get in." Therefore, when Puck dragged Kurt's tempting lips into a kiss in the janitor's closet in the foreign languages hallway, they had exactly four minutes to make out before Kurt literally and figuratively separated them and went back to his studying. Puck would admire the fact that Kurt was the first and only person he'd dated who set firm boundaries in their relationship and forced Puck to follow them as well, except for the raging case of blue balls it left him.

Puck had gotten so lazy, in fact, that he'd honestly almost forgotten about his challenge until he walked into glee Friday afternoon, tasting the freedom of the weekend, to see Artie hooking his laptop up to the speakers and Kurt turning around to face him in his leather pants, a red biker shirt and aviator sunglasses. Puck's mouth went dry and he gulped audibly. Kurt smirked evilly and went back to fiddling with things with Artie as the rest of the glee club filed in curiously. Finally, after they were all seated, Kurt turned to greet them all.

"Well, you're all probably wondering what's going on – Puck here challenged me to see whether or not I could do a metal song. I got my dad's help with some sound effects, and this is what I came up with, so I hope you like it." With that, Kurt nodded at Artie, who grinned and pressed a button on his laptop. The sound of expensive revving engines filled the room as a very familiar grinding crunch of guitars hit the air and Kurt's voice dropped to an impressive growl as he huskily ground out:

_Gimme fuel,  
Gimme fire,  
Gimme that which I desire,  
Ooh!_

The speakers slammed with the sound as Kurt stepped up to an old-fashioned silver microphone, absolutely owning the choir room as they all watched and listened, fascinated as his voice dropped down to the lowest range and then soared back up to the heights of his countertenor training.

_Turn on; I see red  
Adrenaline crash and crash my head  
Nitro junkie, paint me dead  
And I see red_

A hundred plus through black and white  
War horse, warhead  
Fuck 'em, man, white knuckle tight  
Through black and white

As he hit the bridge, Kurt leaned forward seductively, his voice as soothing and crooning as a Broadway aria, and it was so…_sexy_, the dichotomy of Kurt, Puck thought absently – the hard muscle and the soft skin, the edge of his wit to keep people at bay and the vulnerable boy underneath, the cars and the facials…

_Oh, ooh, on I burn  
Fuel is pumping engines  
Burning hard, loose and clean  
And on I burn,  
Churning my direction,  
Quench my thirst with gasoline_

So gimme fuel  
Gimme fire  
Gimme that which I desire

_Oh!_

As the metal kicked back in, Kurt kicked out, slamming his head with the beat and looking for all the world like a metalhead, shattering any ideas Puck might have had about what Kurt was going to do with this.

_Turn on beyond the bone  
Swallow future, spit out home  
Burn your face upon the chrome  
Yeah!_

Take the corner, join the crash  
Headlights, headlines  
Another junkie lives too fast  
Yeah lives way too fast, fast, fast, oh

Kurt smirked and beckoned to Puck imperiously, and Puck grinned as he hopped up, harmonizing with Kurt effortlessly into the microphone as the others cheered them on.

_**Oh, ooh, on I burn  
Fuel is pumping engines  
Burning hard, loose and clean  
And on I burn,  
Churning my direction,  
Quench my thirst with gasoline**_

So gimme fuel  
Gimme fire  
Gimme that which I desire

_**Oh!**_

Kurt shimmied next to him, drawing Puck into a teasing dance as the guitar solo kicked in hard, and Artie let loose enthusiastically with some of the sounds Burt had recorded for his son.

_Gimme fuel_

(**On I burn, on and on**)  
_Gimme fire_

(**On I burn, on and on**)  
_My desire_

_**Oh, on I burn  
Fuel is pumping engines  
Burning hard, loose and clean**_

And on I burn  
Churning my direction  
Quench my thirst with gasoline  
  
_Gimme fuel  
Gimme fire  
Gimme that which I desire  
Ooh_

_On I burn!_

As the sounds died away, the group applauded enthusiastically. Kurt laughed gracefully and bumped knuckles with Puck. "Told you so," he said smugly.

Puck just laughed and pulled him into a kiss as the others groaned (or cheered them on in a creepily enthusiastic manner like Quinn). When they pulled apart, Puck glanced back into the corner of the room and almost jumped in surprise when he saw, for the briefest moment, that dark mask twisting Finn's features, before the other boy turned away from them to talk to Rachel. Puck frowned. The last thing anyone needed – especially Kurt – right now was for Finn to go back to being a bastard. Frowning, Puck waited until they were let out to drop back behind and grab the bag he'd 'forgotten', hiding around a door corner as Rachel squeezed Finn's hand.

"I know that I'm trying – I mean, we're all trying – to just get past it all. And I'm real happy that Kurt's talking to me again. It's just…why does Puck have to take _everything_ from me? Kurt was _my_ friend first, and I've been trying to tell him that he could do something like today for months, but he thinks it's a bad idea until _Puck_ comes along?" Finn squeezed his eyes shut. "There are days when I really wish I'd never met him, you know?"

Rachel sighed and stared off into the distance, not even wondering what to say, Puck guessed. Finn didn't even notice how irritated Rachel was with him. Probably not a good thing. Puck found that he didn't care. All he wanted to do was punch some sense into Finn's big, stupid head. And then wonder what the hell Kurt ever saw in him. Puck jerked back from the door and went to go meet Kurt in the parking lot.

"What is it?" Kurt asked uncertainly when he saw Puck's face.

"Nothing," Puck said flatly. As they headed out to the park, he tried as hard as he could to believe his own words.

**Songs used in this chapter:**

Both "Don't Tell Me" and "Music" from Madonna's wonderful album _Music_.

"It's Raining Men" by I don't even know or care was mentioned, but that's all that ever needs doing in the case of that song.

"That's How You Know," originally sung by Amy Adams in the wonderful Disney movie _Enchanted_ (it's sooo _cute_!)

And, finally, "Fuel" by Metallica. Frankly, after seeing Avril Lavigne handle a fairly competent cover of the song during her first tour, I have complete faith that _Glee_ could do a kickass rendition of this song.

**A/N:** Oh, my god, this chapter would _not_ be written! I don't know what the hell happened, but it just was not coming out! Now that it's finally done, I'm not sure that I'm completely satisfied with it, but I'm not making you guys wait any longer, so it's going up. I didn't mean to use as much music as I did, but oh well. I love you guys; hope you enjoyed it and I'm sorry about the wait once more. Till next time!


	12. 12 The Day the Music Died

**A/N:** I'm not really apologizing for the wait because we're right in the thick of the school term and much as I love you guys, I'm taking six graduate classes right now and certain things like scholarships and the like depend on grades, so writing has to take a backseat to studying –but fear not! I'm about done with this round of test-taking and I should have some free time coming up to finish the last three chapters of this story.

That being said, I also had a bit of writer's block on this one and a bit of trouble editing; it has more music in it than I'd planned.

**WARNING:** Angst begins here; there are serious issues between Puck and Kurt that need to be discussed and a problem with Finn that needs to be resolved! I've inserted as much humor as I could given the context, but I'm warning you right now, if you're expecting more fluff or cracky humor, this is not the chapter for you.

With all that out of the way, I'm sorry for the wait and I hope that you enjoy:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

Chapter 12: The Day the Music Died

Puck jerked awake to a tapping on his window. Staring around blearily, he rubbed his eyes and stumbled up to glare at the murky glass (now Kurt was on him to clean it, earning him even _more_ favor from Puck's mother, damn it all) until what looked like a big rock hit it with a clunk. He threw the window open and looked down to see an irritated Santana glaring up at his window.

"It's about friggin' _time_; I was getting ready to start in on your driveway bricks," she snapped.

"Aren't you supposed to have a dick to pull this shit at this time of night?" Puck demanded. "We aren't together or breaking up right now, bitch!"

"As if," she sneered. "Get down here and talk to me or I _will_ start bricking, and I won't start with your bedroom window." She jerked her thumb toward his precious truck. Puck paled and stumbled back into his room to throw on the first pair of sweat pants he saw so he could rush down stairs before the psychotic cheerleader got any ideas. "Nice," she commented when he stepped out on his porch. "Does Kurtsie know that you like to have that tweaked yet?" she smirked evilly, gesturing at his nipple ring. Puck stepped back defensively.

"No," he said shortly.

"Why not?" she demanded.

"We haven't…done anything yet," he mumbled, staring down at his shoes.

"Holy shit, Puckerman, are you _blushing_?" Santana laughed.

"No!" he pouted.

"Well, good, then," Santana declared. "I came over here to make sure that you're treating him right." At his confused look, she shook her head. "Believe it or not, you're kind of the only person in this entire stupid town who gets me, and I haven't seen you this happy in, like, ever. And also, if I want Quinn to start talking to me again I have to be nice to you because she sort of owns you like a puppy, so here I am."

"At two in the morning," Puck said. Santana nodded with a shrug. "And – _hey_! The Puckeroni is _not_ some chick's _puppy_!"

"Whatever. That's not really what I wanted to talk to you about," she said dismissively. "I wanted to thank you, Puck." Puck stared. Santana. Was. Thanking. Him. He glanced around, wondering when the first meteor was going to hit his house. "I mean, for screwing my head on straight when it comes to Brittany. You were right; I was being a little bitch. So I talked to her, and we aren't screwing around anymore. I met her parents tonight."

"What are they like?" Puck asked, starting to smile.

"Veterinarians, weirdly enough," Santana said. "That's why Britt likes animals so much more than people, I guess."

"Good, then," Puck said.

"God, look at us," Santana said after a moment of companionable silence. She turned away from him. "Glee freaks and tied down."

"And happy," Puck noted. "Don't leave that out."

"Of course. Sap."

"Bitch," Puck said, without heat.

"And don't forget it." Santana went still for a moment, before she turned around, leaned in and kissed him. For just a moment, Puck forgot about Kurt as he remembered a different time when he was on top of the school and this little spitfire was in his arms, her lush lips pressed against his. But when they both pulled away, it was without regrets. It felt like goodbye. Santana lingered, her sweet perfume invading his senses, as she kissed him on the cheek. "See you around, Puckerman."

"You too, Lopez," he nodded, and then she was gone and he was left to stare from his porch into the warm summer complacency settling down around his neighborhood.

**888**

"So, did Santana talk to you?" Quinn asked as they pulled out of the Starbucks parking lot (she'd put her foot down and forced him unwillingly into coffee snobbery; Kurt was ecstatic), sucking insouciantly from her deceptively sweet and fluffy drink.

"Do you know _everything_?" Puck asked, heaving a long-suffering sigh. Quinn cackled and patted his head condescendingly as they rejoined traffic. When they pulled into the WMHS parking lot, Quinn primly hopped down from the front seat and snagged her messenger bag, joining the rest of the Cheerios at the front steps. Not too far away from them, the gleeks were laughing at something Tina said as Artie pretended to be irritated. There weren't any attacking jocks in sight, and Puck smirked to himself as he glanced up to see Kurt give him a little wave before turning back to Brittany and Santana, who were blatantly holding hands and looked peacefully happy.

Before Puck and Quinn could make it more than two steps, Rachel Berry bounded up to them, smiling at her most chipper. Quinn winced and quickly took a long dragging sip of her coffee before turning and smiling brightly at Rachel. Puck snorted rudely and turned to see what she wanted.

"Hello, fellow glee-clubbers! Isn't this morning _wonderful_?" Rachel asked, sounding as usual like the announcer for Disneyworld. Before they could agree or disagree, she plowed on. "I just wanted to say thank you to both of you for your efforts in encouraging club cohesiveness. It seems to me that everyone is much friendlier and happier since the competition and no matter what the results are today—"

"Rachel," Quinn interrupted, holding up her hand. "Much as I'm becoming reluctant friends with you by way of my boys, the fact that you're _still_ this bright and cheerful _this_ early in the morning is irritating." Rachel looked somewhat crestfallen, and Quinn reached out and patted her shoulder in a friendly way. "I'm glad that Finn's treating you well again, too. So, you want to join up with everyone else?"

"Yes," Rachel said almost meekly, but her steps were still bouncing as she joined them with the bigger group, her hand shyly intertwining with Finn's. The others called out to them casually, and Puck glanced around. Matt and Mercedes were joking about something casually, Mike and Quinn were chatting happily while Tina and Artie were making goo-goo eyes at each other (as opposed to Santana and Brittany who both just looked like they wanted to tear each others' clothes off), and Kurt was detaching himself from a grinning Finn and Rachel to join up with Puck.

"Huh," Puck remarked, looking around.

"What?" Kurt asked cautiously. "You're not about to make a dick joke, are you?"

"Nah," Puck said, easily tossing his arm around Kurt's shoulders and squeezing. "I'm just thinking – if I hadn't let myself get tied down, none of the rest of this would've happened. My sex life is the center of the glee club, man."

"_What_ sex life?" Kurt said acidly. "And who says I'm keeping you?"

"Awww, come 'ere," Puck said patronizingly and drew a giggling Kurt into a light kiss.

"Fags," came a casual comment from someone passing them by, and Puck felt his entire body stiffening in outrage before Kurt's small hand pressed into his trustingly.

"Like _you're_ getting any," Kurt tossed back at Karofsky and his grinning minions. "Seriously, _Dave_, when was the last time a girl so much as looked your way? And it's not like you've _ever_ managed to nail a Cheerio."

"Especially not the head Cheerio," Quinn joined in, looking pointedly at Puck. "Twice."

"Fuck you!" Karofsky snapped, scowling.

"Language, meatheads! Since when do _you_ have the clout to insult my head Cheerios just because one is an ex-pregnoid disgrace and one is Liberace and Elton John's secret gay love child? GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" Sue Sylvester screeched as she passed by. Thoroughly cowed, the jocks scattered as the coach turned her burning eyes onto the group. "You thoroughly stomped-on group of scab-eating mouth breathers, _stop looking so happy_! Mandatory morning laps in the gym for all of my Cheerios; we're starting a grueling new afternoon routine and the first five to faint from exhaustion will be _cut_!" She glared belligerently at them all. "WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL STANDING HERE?"

"Bye, Noah," Kurt said quickly, his eyes large as dinner plates, as he and Quinn grabbed Santana and Brittany and the four of them hightailed it toward the gym, Sylvester following behind them and hurling abuse.

"What the hell was _that_ all about?" Puck asked after silence descended on the group.

"I heard through the gossip vine that she and Castle had an epic fight the other day that finally turned violent when Castle threw beer on Sylvester's favorite tracksuit. She punched Castle so hard that her eyeballs turned backwards and that's why Castle isn't in school today," Matt said after a moment.

"Is that even possible?" Finn asked.

"Probably not," Rachel said. "But an altercation between the two of them would most likely explain her more horrendous than usual mood. At least she didn't shove me into a wall. She's started doing that ever since that unfortunate misunderstanding when me and Finn used the Cheerios copying machine and didn't get into trouble for it."

"The day that she finally gets arrested for child abuse, I'm going to sprint after the car throwing stink bombs, and then I'm going to throw a wild schoolwide party," Tina said darkly.

"I'll add a motor to my chair so you can keep up with her longer," Artie promised devotedly.

"Okay, I'm gonna go ahead and lurk outside the gym and make sure she wasn't serious about that fainting thing," Mercedes said.

"She probably is. She used to come into the locker rooms and offer Tanaka 'suggestions' about how to up our game," Puck said, shuddering.

"And then he'd make us do 100 windsprints every afternoon for a week, just because she'd hide behind the bleachers and check to make sure he was taking her advice," Finn agreed.

"If he didn't, she'd come out and get the Cheerios to throw water balloons full of soda at us until we were so sticky that we'd have to hit the showers, where they'd left all our clothes to soak and all the hot water was gone. She said that it was what a bunch of soggy impotent slobs like us deserved," Matt chimed in.

"Dude, that's like one of the longest sentences that you've said all year," Finn said, clapping Matt on the shoulder in congratulations.

"We're working on it – ever since our pastor thought that he was a mute because of trauma and tried to intervene with his parents," Mercedes said. Mike laughed so hard he tripped and stumbled into the bushes, and Matt smirked as he and Mercedes headed toward the school. Puck nodded at Rachel and Finn and headed toward the nurse's office. He wouldn't be seeing Kurt until lunch so if he got one of the nerds to puke into a toilet for him he could tell the nurse he had food poisoning and needed it to pass out of his system before he could go back to classes. That ought to take up half the day – and if Kurt didn't hear about _how_ he got one of the nerds to provide the sick, well, that was just something Puck didn't really have to bring up while they were making out.

**888**

"Where's Santana?" Mr. Schuester asked as they all filed in for that afternoon's glee session.

"She's in the office," Tina replied. "She and Brittany were making out in the hallway and Karofsky insulted Brittany, and, well, you just don't _do_ that in front of Santana, or around her, or behind her, or…well, you just don't do that."

"Um…what happened?" Mr. Schuester asked after a moment of agreeable silence from the rest of the club.

"What do you think happened?" Quinn asked. "It's Santana. Karofsky won't be playing hockey anytime soon. But everyone's so scared that they aren't confessing to Figgins that they actually _saw_ her do anything, so Coach Sylvester is busy harassing the principle. I'm sure that Santana will be here soon."

"Wow," Schue muttered. "Well…I'm glad that Santana stuck up for Brittany, I suppose, but is Karofsky going to be alright?"

"Who cares?" the entire glee club said in perfect unison, before turning to stare at each other. Puck was the first to burst out laughing, before the rest of them cracked up. Schue tried to keep a serious face, but he lost the battle quickly and turned toward the whiteboard so that they couldn't see him chortling. Sure enough, a few moments later Santana appeared, Brittany in tow, and apologized for being late as she sashayed to take her seat. If Schuester noticed the blood on Santana's knuckles, he didn't mention it.

Instead, Kurt and Puck led the club in a rousing rendition of "Before He Cheats" with Santana on lead vocals. Brittany sighed and applauded happily as Santana throatily belted out:

_I dug my key into the side_

_Of his pretty little souped-up four wheel drive_

_Carved my name into his leather seats_

_I took an aluminum slugger to both headlights_

_Slashed a hole in all four tires_

with perhaps too much sheer violent joy in her face. Looking somewhat uneasy with the bloodthirst his students seemed to be developing, Mr. Schue ended the jam session with some applause.

**888**

Kurt had been unusually quiet by the time Thursday rolled around, not laughing at some of Puck's more obvious puns, and Puck was worried. They'd been in a kind of grace period the last two weeks since the competition, and he didn't want it to end as much as he knew that it would and that it should. Still, Puck stayed as light-hearted as he could, holding Kurt's hand in between classes and shit like that. Mercedes was absolutely glowing at him lately, so maybe this whole not being a dick to his boyfriend thing had lost him the scary bitch as an enemy. _That's one major tick in the plus column_, Puck thought as some fledgling jock made to go towards Mercedes with a slushee in hand, only to catch sight of the look on her face and the grip on her nail file and decide to turn in the other direction to find backup.

She caught his eye and smirked, and Kurt chuckled weakly next to him. "And now you're rubbing off on _everyone_."

"Aw, come on, babe – you know the only one I want to rub off on is you," Puck said with a cheesy smile. It was enough to startle a choked laugh out of Kurt as he stared at Puck in disbelief. Puck waggled his eyebrows and Kurt rolled his eyes. His fingers tightened around Puck's though, and Puck thought that maybe he'd won. He'd do a victory dance but Quinn was still giving him shit about his ridiculous one when they'd won the competition.

Kurt fell quiet again as they slowly headed towards glee that afternoon, waving off Puck's concern, which was starting to irritate him. He knew that Kurt had this thing where he had to prove that he was strong enough to deal with everything no matter what. The trouble was that they'd all seen first-hand the results of one of Kurt's meltdown and Puck was in no way ready for another one when Kurt was just starting to return to his normal, bitchy self. But he didn't know how to put that in words, so he settled for just shutting up and figuring that Kurt would talk when he wanted to talk.

"Okay, guys – I figured I'd open up this meeting with some positive news," Mr. Schuester said, bounding in with his usual mix of encouragement and enthusiasm. "Dave Karofsky's mom has let everyone in her prayer circle know that he'll be back on solid food by next week. Since there weren't any witnesses to whatever happened to him—" He fixed them all with a look, and all twelve of them stared back at him thoroughly unimpressed. Schue sighed and soldiered on. "They've decided that he must have fallen down the stairs. That's the story that Mr. Karofsky is sticking to, anyway."

"He _did_ fall down the stairs…at one point," Santana said with a sweet smile.

"Um…_right_. Well. Moving on," Mr. Schuester said quickly, shuffling some papers. Puck stifled a snort of laughter into his collar while Kurt tried hard not to laugh; Puck poked him in his ticklish side and he yelped, jerking over into Quinn's seat, who meanly shoved him right back practically into Puck's lap. Puck sent Kurt a look. Kurt, supremely unimpressed, reached his small, nimble fingers up and viciously plucked one of Puck's armpit hairs out.

"OW!" Puck hollered, jerking forward and falling out of his chair. Kurt smiled and victoriously settled his feet on Puck's shoulders like a footrest; Puck sent him a disbelieving look and Kurt shared a three-way high-five with Quinn and Santana while the rest of the club started chortling.

"Okay, guys!" Schue called, shooting them his stern look until they all settled down. "Thank you," he said acerbically. Rachel at least had the grace to look ashamed.

"You're welcome!" Brittany said enthusiastically. Mr. Schue sighed as Santana smiled indulgently and linked their pinkies together.

"So, to get to business: as you all know, the pep rally is tomorrow afternoon. Because we have four members who are also Cheerios, coach Sylvester has demanded that the cheerleaders' routine be allowed to go first. After the Cheerios and the band wind down, we'll be closing out the assembly and then we get an early dismissal. So here's the thing: Kurt's come to me and proposed that along with showing the recordings of the performances, we perform a number on our own, and I agreed that it needed to be popular and something that can get the students involved: Madonna's popular take on 'American Pie.' What do you guys think?"

While the club clapped and started muttering to each other about dance moves, Puck froze and turned to stare at Kurt, who was studiously looking at his nails. "You didn't say anything about this to me," he said. Kurt didn't say a word, and a gnawing pit of _something_ began to burn in Puck's stomach.

"Mr. Schuester, there's something else," Kurt said after a moment, standing up and moving away from Puck's touch. Kurt turned to face the group, looking at anyone _but_ Puck, and Puck felt his hands start to grow cold. "As we all know, glee club is at a place where we aren't popular but we aren't exactly completely _unpopular_, either. So we don't want to do anything that would cause the jocks and the others on top of the heap at this school to start back in on letting every potential recruit know that we're losers and _gay_." Something twisted violently in Kurt's face when he said the word before it was gone and the cold mask was back for him to hide behind.

"So, instead of showing my and Puck's performance, I think that we should show Rachel's and Santana's and then skip to us singing," he finished in a rush.

Surprisingly enough, it was Rachel who protested first. "But Kurt, you _won_. It wouldn't be fair to you to not take the winnings," she said reasonably. "Although if this is your decision I of course won't say no to leading the representation of our club," she added almost like an afterthought.

"Kurt, are you sure about this?" Mr. Schuester asked, looking concerned.

"Of course," Kurt said flatly, his emotions shutting off on his face. Puck's fists clenched. Quinn, looking worried, lightly rested her hand on Puck's shoulder and squeezed, till Puck sighed and let out a breath. Schue sent him a pointed look but without saying much else he started handing out the sheet music, discussing how Kurt and Rachel could solo on the verses and who would lead the chorus, along with simple dance steps. Mercedes sent Puck an apologetic look as she allowed Kurt to draw her to the side and start working on simple dance steps.

Finn sat down next to Puck when everyone else started dancing, and Kurt's mouth tightened as he refused to look at either of them.

"He does this sometimes," Finn said after a moment. "I don't understand why. But he shuts off unless you don't let him shut off…and…I don't think you should let him." Finn studiously refused to look at him during this, and Puck didn't say anything back, because, really, what could he say? Finn was right, but all of this emotional warfare was something that Quinn was better at than him. He didn't know what the ground was he was standing on when it came to emotional shit, and not for the first time Puck glanced longingly at Santana and wondered whether or not he wanted to keep trying to be Kurt's Noah or if it would just be easier to be Puck again.

He didn't see Kurt catching him looking at Santana or notice the way Kurt's eyes welled up before he blinked them away and went back to working with Santana. Quinn's eyes, however, had narrowed dangerously as she chewed on her lip the way she did when she was working on something in her head that she wasn't ready to share with anyone.

**888**

"Thanks for letting me know ahead of time that you're ashamed," Puck growled darkly when he cornered Kurt in the bathroom on the way out of school. Kurt looked up warily as he saw that they were the only two in the bathroom, and the trapped, panicked way that he resembled a wild animal in front of a hunter made Puck feel like bile was rising in his stomach. Puck was in _way_ over his head and he didn't know what the hell he was doing so all he could do at this point was go on instinct.

"What? How could you possibly think that I'm _ashamed_ of _you_?" Kurt asked, but he wasn't meeting Puck's eyes.

"Don't do that – don't you try to shut me out the way you do everyone else," Puck said flatly, and Kurt's cheeks went red. "I'm not stupid and I'm not too much of a bitch to call you on this. I can't _help_ you unless you tell me what the hell you're freaking out over!"

"I'm not 'freaking out,'" Kurt said angrily. "I'm doing this for _you_!"

"Don't give me that!" Puck hollered. "What the hell does that even _mean_?"

"You don't _understand_ what it's like to be _me_!" Kurt screamed, finally snapping, his pupils blown and his hair disheveled. "You think because you've gotten slushied and tossed in the dumpster that you know what I go through but you _don't_!" Kurt surged forward and shoved Puck away from him. "You don't know what it's like getting slammed into lockers every day and thrown in the trash, to have all of your clothing ruined, to having your wrists sprained from being thrown into walls, to have to wait until you're alone in the locker room because if you dare to take a shower with other people around you'll get beaten up! I have to use the girls' bathroom because when I use this bathroom during the school day I get shoved in the toilet or slammed into the wall! And don't think that I don't remember the time you tied me to the flagpole and I had a panic attack and had to get taken out of school!" Kurt was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. Puck thought he was going to vomit.

"If you think for one second that I'm doing this because I'm ashamed of you, you don't know me at all," Kurt said, going eerily quiet as he forced himself to calm down. "I'm doing this because I care about you too much to ever want it on my shoulders that because I let those _stupid_ jocks see us doing a gay song and dance in front of the whole school that all of this started happening to _you_! And I've never cared about _anyone_ like this because it scares the hell out of me because if it all starts to happen to you you're going to _leave_ me and then I won't have _anyone_!" Puck flinched back as the mask Kurt had been wearing all day finally crumbled and he fell back against the wall, sliding down to sit on the filthy floor in his designer pants as the tears started falling.

For a long moment, Puck stood frozen, Kurt's words digging into him like knives as he stared down at the sobbing wreck in front of him, and it was then that it really hit him that Kurt was in love with him. There were so many walls around Kurt's heart to protect him and somehow, someway, Puck had penetrated them all. He held Kurt's heart in his fist and he could crush it to a pulp if he wanted to, which was exactly what Kurt was expecting him to do. For a moment, Puck wondered who was the more screwed up of the pair of them.

After a moment, Puck slid down to sit next to Kurt. They both stared straight ahead without touching each other or looking around them. "When I was six my dad left us," he said after a moment. Kurt barely breathed beside him. Puck's fists clenched. "My mom had just had Sarah, and she and him were fighting more than ever. He was running all over anywhere, playing with whatever shitty garage bands he could get his pathetic ass into." He sneered. "I just remember one fight about his 'groupies' getting really bad, and then he hit her. She told him to get the hell out and I chased him out the door and tried to make him stay, so he shoved me off of him and he gave me his old, screwed up guitar and told me to get over it and man up and take care of my women. I never saw him again."

"My mom made me promise that I'd never let them break me," Kurt said softly. "I didn't know what she meant at the time."

"Fuck 'em," Puck said brutally after a moment. "I'm not gonna turn out like that. And if the guys give me shit because I want to tap that fine piece of Cheerios ass, then they're gonna meet Puckeroni's guns real quick."

Kurt snorted next to him. "You haven't managed to tap this yet," he said flatly. "And you're right. To hell with them." He moved swiftly, until he was practically in Puck's lap. Puck blinked before Kurt's lips claimed his in a swift kiss, a barely there whisper of _I love you_ against his lips, sounding so desperate, and then Kurt was standing up and practically bolting out the door, and Puck drew his knees up to his chest and sat there for a long, long time, seeing nothing but restless ghosts that wouldn't give him peace.

**888**

The next morning, New Directions had a quick meeting before the school day started. Puck pulled up to the parking lot alone for once; Quinn had had a sleepover with Mercedes and Rachel after Rachel (making a supremely painful-looking smile) conceded that Quinn's voice was better suited to match Kurt's for Madonna's rendition of "American Pie" and that Rachel _of course wanted the solo to go to whoever would make the whole team sound amazing_. Puck frowned as he saw that Quinn's fists were clenched as she sat on one of the park benches outside the school while Rachel looked down at the ground.

"What's up?" Puck asked uneasily as he headed over to them.

"Rachel has broken up with Finn," Quinn reported tersely, glaring at him like it was his fault somehow. Puck shot her a confused look.

"What the hell happened?" Puck asked, nonplussed.

"We had a huge fight last night, and I've decided that I'm much more mature than him anyway," Rachel said in a miserable attempt at her usual pride. "If he can't focus on me then he doesn't deserve me, right?"

"Men," Santana said scathingly as she walked past them.

"Who pissed in _your_ Cheerios?" Puck shot back snidely.

"Azimio flashed Brittany in the locker room," Santana snarled. "Britt didn't know what to do and I wasn't there because I was busy making sure that _we_ got the choreography down!" She was trembling, but whether in rage or fear Puck didn't know. How had this day gone so thoroughly to shit so fast?

"I can kill the son of a bitch for you," Puck offered. Santana had the grace to attempt a smile, but it looked like more of a grimace than anything.

"I hate this school," Rachel said softly. For a moment, they stood in the bright sunlight and didn't say anything. Puck's gut twisted and he turned around and headed to glee. He vaguely heard Quinn following him and dragging Rachel and Santana along with her, but at the moment he just really wanted to see Kurt, see _something_ to make all these confusing feelings twisting around inside of him go the hell _away_. He was so tired of trying to deal with this shit! _My life was fucking easier when I just set shit on fire_.

The soft strains of a piano trickled out through the gap in the door, slow and melancholy, which was wrong because Puck recognized the song from Kurt's basement; it was supposed to be light and cheerful. Carefully, not even really knowing why he did it, Puck leaned his head in, stopping the girls from getting in, and peered in. The rest of the club was milling around will Finn stood next to the piano, looking depressed. Puck's blood boiled as he saw Kurt, back in his Cheerios uniform and his attitude, coaxing the depressing tune as he sang softly, painfully:

_Loving you is easy,_

_Loving you is wondrous and pure_

_I shout it from the roof tops_

_How long must I wait till I see your smile?_

_Might have been the moonlight_

_Caught up in the sparkle in your eyes_

_So we gotta know I should go slow_

_But it's not in me to wait_

'_Cause I'm alive – I'm on fire_

_Shine like a star burst into the sky_

_Oh, the fire of desire—_

_You burn so bright; electrify_

_You line me up, you take me higher_

Kurt was a million miles away, his eyes seeing something that Puck just couldn't see, and in that moment it felt like Kurt really was some princess from one of Sarah's stupid books, far away and impossible for someone like Puck to touch. Finn leaned in closer, his big, stupid hands drumming out the stupid beat because he was too effing _stupid_ to see that Kurt wasn't _cheerful_; couldn't Finn understand that Kurt _shouldn't_ be singing this song to him? Was Kurt singing to Finn – Finn, who he'd let in farther than he'd ever let Puck (_Finn, who never even gave him a second glance, who ripped his heart out and fucking stomped on it!_)?

_I've been down a long road_

_I've become a stranger to myself_

_Digging in my heels and hoping time_

_Might be kinder if I wait it out_

_Nothing came from wondering_

_I've became so small and insecure_

_Didn't know the cost of all I lost—_

_Till I found it fresh and new again with you_

It was when Finn leaned in closer and Rachel made a small, pained noise behind him that the quivering tension that had been building and building in Puck since yesterday finally just _snapped_ and before he knew what he was doing, he'd launched himself into the room and tackled Finn to the ground, hearing shrieks and squeals and grunts of surprise, but all that really penetrated the red haze of shimmering rage in his mind was the music stopping as his fist connected with Finn's chin with a nasty crunch.

Puck started slamming his fists into every part of a loudly yelling Finn that he could reach until hands jerked him up and off of Finn, separating the two of them, and suddenly Quinn Fabray was standing between the two of them, looking like the goddess of war as fire flew from her eyes and she lifted her hand and let fly, slapping him so hard across the face that his whole head snapped sideways, his ears ringing, and some of the blinding rage started to subside. Quinn watched him with narrowed eyes until she seemed to see that he was calming down before she turned to Finn, who was shrieking obscenities.

"Shut _up_," Quinn ordered flatly, and glared at him so fiercely that Finn's mouth snapped closed. "_Thank_ you. _Now_ – does someone want to tell me what the hell just happened? Hmm?" To Puck's surprise, she turned her glare on Kurt, who had shrunk against the wall and wasn't even _looking_ at him, god _damn_ it.

"The hell if _I_ know!" Finn snarled. "He just _lost_ it!"

"While you dumped Rachel and five minutes later came in here making cow eyes at _my_ boyfriend!" Puck retorted, his fists shaking.

"What? Not so nice when your _friend_ moves in on your territory?" Finn snapped back, his eyes narrowing evilly.

"Go _fuck_ yourself, Hudson!" Puck roared, starting forward, but Santana and Mercedes – both surprisingly strong at the worst of times – held him back.

"Would the two of you just SHUT UP!" Kurt yelled, standing up suddenly, his eyes blazing. "How _dare_ you just sit there and argue about me like I'm some _toy_, like I'm not even _here_…" He was so furious that his impressive vocabulary seemed to have completely failed him; somewhere in the back of Puck's mind he thought about all the times that Kurt had gotten angry at him, all the different levels of Kurt's ever-changing facial expressions, and he realized that he'd never actually seen Kurt completely lose control over his anger like this, just like how he'd never seen Kurt break before yesterday.

"So what the hell were _you_ doing singing _that_ song to _him_?" Puck yelled, not backing down.

"You thought I was singing about _him_?" Kurt said, going soft, and Puck realized that somewhere he'd just stepped in it big time. "Puck? Go to hell." And with that, he turned around and walked out of the room.

"_Great_!" Quinn muttered acidly. "_You_!" She rounded on Puck. "Go fix it, _now_. I want him fully ready for this afternoon. Santana, go after him. When Puck's done, take Kurt and Brittany and skip classes for the day; just hang out in the gym in uniform and no one will bother you. Finn, calm the hell down. Mercedes, you and I are going to change the choreography for the performance so that Finn and Puck are as far away from each other as possible." She turned to see everyone staring at her, not moving. Quinn threw her arms up in the air and shrieked in an eerily Sylvester-esque fashion, "WHAT PART OF _NOW_ DID YOU _NOT_ UNDERSTAND? GET _OUT OF MY SIGHT_!"

"What's going on in here?" a thoroughly nonplussed Schue said as he strolled into the room, sipping a latte. Puck briefly felt a pang of sorry for the man as Quinn rounded on him before Santana led him out of the room.

"If Britt and I weren't together I'd be showing that girl how much better girls can be," Santana said fervently as she led him after Kurt. "_Damn_." Puck figured she was just making small talk so he didn't bother answering her, just let her lead him wherever she was going. He looked up as she shoved him into the girls' bathroom. Puck stared at the door, confused, before a yelping Kurt was shoved in after him with a succinct "Fix the shit before Cheerios this afternoon or Quinn's going to make you eat your own prostate" before Santana slammed the door shut and leaned against it, ostentatiously telling them that they weren't going anywhere.

"I'm sorry," Puck said, not looking at him. "For…saying that shit. I'm kind of a retard when it comes to this emotional shit, you know? So…"

"I don't really forgive you," Kurt said, his fists clenched. "Why would you do that – why would you even _think_—"

"Because I _don't know_!" Puck burst out. "I mean, I care about you, Kurt – a _lot_. And I don't know what to _do_ with that! I don't do this feelings shit, because it fucking _hurts_. The last person I even came _close_ to feeling like this about was _Quinn_ and _Beth_, and do you have any idea how many nights I still see that little girl's face in my dreams, knowing that I'm just like my dad, leaving her?" Kurt's face crumbled, but Puck wasn't done.

"You shut everyone out, Kurt, even your dad. Some days you show up looking like you and some days you show up looking like this, and you just expect us to know how to treat you. We all care about you but you don't ever let us _show_ it! And every time I think you're finally opening up to me, you just retreat. And you still won't tell anyone what happened between you and Finn or why it screwed you up this much, and what does that tell me? You were completely open when you were singing to _him_ and you won't let your guard down enough to be that way around _me_. So, yeah, I lost it. Where the hell does that leave us?"

"I don't know," Kurt whispered. He looked up, and Puck jerked back, breathing hard, as the first tear slipped down Kurt's face. "_Please_, Noah, _please_ don't leave me now."

"I'm not leaving, Princess," Puck said, his voice husky and rough. "I'm _not_."

**888**

It was pretty widely accepted that Sue Sylvester was the most terrifying woman on the planet. She crushed kids bones in her juicer to make protein shakes and she'd been a sniper, a spy, a terrorist and a ruthless dictator of an unknown country before deciding to cheerlead, ending up in a tiny town just to prove that she could take that tiny town and take Nationals five times in a row. No one knew her true age and the history club was entirely certain that she bathed in the blood of sacrificial virgin girls a la the Countess of Bath to retain her youthful vigor and rage. Rumor had it she was now bored with Lima and was thinking about setting off a few bombs just to shake things up.

No one had a clue what the Cheerios were going to do for the assembly, but if it weren't for Kurt and Quinn and Santana and Brittany obviously having clocked hundreds of hours practicing for it, Puck wouldn't have found much interest in it. He felt scraped raw from this morning, his entire body singing with tension that refused to ease. Mercedes, acting on direct orders from Quinn, had led the glee club to their bench on the front row while they waited for their turn to perform and sat Finn on one end and Puck all the way on the other, with Rachel in the middle and the girls next to Puck (with Mercedes right next to him and ready to tackle him if he tried anything (when Quinn was pissed she planned ahead)) and the guys next to Finn. Finn kept shooting looks at Rachel, who was resolutely staring straight down (she'd been staring straight ahead but Ben-Israel was waving at her and it looked like he'd made another one of her hair dolls to sniff from across the packed auditorium.

There had been new construction on the roof of the gym that Sylvester had paid for with boosters' money (when Figgins had attempted a token protest, she'd pointed out that the basketball team shouldn't care as they never won, and he'd shut up), but it was all shrouded in darkness. Sylvester herself was impatiently waiting for the band to play some introductory music after Figgins' dull opening remarks, and when the band finished the entire auditorium was plunged into darkness, only to open on the male Cheerios, minus Kurt, standing in the middle of the gym, slowly twining sinuously to middle eastern music that began to play hypnotically from the speakers. Puck leaned in despite himself.

As the music began to swell, the girls joined the guys, the swirls of their skirts adding to the effect as they stood en pointe, halfway between ballet and belly dancing. As drum beats joined the music, someone gasped beside him and Puck glanced upward, freezing as he realized that swinging from the newly erected hoists in the ceiling was _Kurt_, pulling trapeze moves from silk cords, and he was freaking _singing_ while he hung suspended in the air, matching the moves of the dancers below him.

_Burning sands_

_Winds of desire  
Mirrored, the waves that reflect a burning fire within my heart  
Un-watered, feeding the flame:  
Welcoming you to my Harem_

Even Rachel gasped, leaning forward, as Kurt's voice soared to operatic heights that reminded Puck of when they'd jammed to "Like a Prayer," the kind of notes that it seemed impossible to hit. Kurt swung through the air like an angel, holding his hand out, beckoning the crowd to listen, to be enchanted, as the dance below him grew ever more complicated. Sue Sylvester prowled around the edges of the performance, watching every movement for signs of weakness.

_Sing for me a song of life's visage  
Sing for me a tune of love's mirage_

Kurt swung forward in a daring move that had Puck's heart in his throat as the guys on the ground bent forward while the girls reached up as if in supplication; Kurt held his body dangerously away from his harness as he reached down to them, suspended practically upside down as he continued to sing the eerie melody:

_In his eyes, sleep untold  
Whispers that echo the days of all my soul—  
I hold your Eastern promise close to my heart:  
Welcoming you to my Harem_

The music suddenly swelled into a pulsing, electronica dance beat as Kurt flipped forward and landed smoothly on his feet with feline grace amongst the dancing girls, and Puck leapt to his feet, along with half the crowd, and for a wild moment Puck looked around and prayed that Burt Hummel wasn't anywhere near here because Puck was sure that if he was he'd have surged forward and dragged his son home by now. Then thought wiped itself clean out of his head as Kurt joined the dance, swaying, moving, sensuous and yet innocent, strong but weak, the lights flaring and dying like a flickering fire as the synchronized movements of the well-trained squad belied weeks of practice and muscle training.

Finally, the rest fell away, and Quinn leapt into the air, performing the splits mid-air before landing daintily, her voice ringing out clear and sweet as a bell as she held her hand out to Kurt:

**Sing for me a song of life's visage  
Sing for me a tune of love's mirage**

As they twirled together in moves straight out of the "Hung Up" routine they'd used on Sylvester, Kurt and Quinn brought the performance to a finish as their voices combined into a melody, bringing the song to a close as they collapsed to their knees as if in supplication.

_**Time is change**_

_**Times will move us now  
No escape the passing sands of time  
I hold your Eastern promise close to my heart:  
Welcoming you to my Harem**_

For a moment, the crowd was still, until they rose to their feet, roaring and stamping, and Kurt and Quinn took their bows as the Cheerios dispersed and the lights went up. Puck settled back in his seat and sighed in relief as Kurt headed to make a quick change out of the gym; Puck in no way wanted to admit that he'd been scared as a little girl in the dark watching Kurt swing from that trapeze thing and there was nothing he wanted more than to strangle one Sue Sylvester. But badass as the Puckmonster undoubtedly was, he wasn't fool enough to tangle with that bitch; while Kurt, Quinn and Santana seemed to be constantly vying for position as Cheerio HBIC, Sue Sylvester had bypassed that and progressed to a straight-up BAMF.

"White folks," Mercedes muttered next to him. "I'm gonna whoop both of their crazy asses when they get back out here." Puck felt a little better as Schue stood up to make some opening remarks about glee club. It was probably a mark of how psychotically good Kurt's performance had been that there wasn't the usual not-so-subtle jeering from the jocks…but that could also have been because Santana was staring daggers at the two spots where Karofsky and Azimio were usually seated (while Dave was still in the hospital, Azimio hadn't shown up for classes that day and Brittany was happily toting around a large stuffed animal that Puck knew Santana didn't have the money to buy).

The lights dimmed and Puck let his mind drift as the strains of Santana and Brittany's performance danced through his ears; they'd decided that Santana's idea of using both the jocks and sex appeal might just convince some of the other students that glee wasn't just comprised of straight up losers, and they could move from that to Rachel and Matt's thing to get some Broadway and some more modern music together to prove that it actually could happen, and even Puck had to admit that Rachel had done a phenomenal job.

"Hey," Kurt whispered, having silently snuck up on him. Puck jumped and glowered and Quinn giggled until Mercedes shot her a poisonous stare, and she subsided. Sometimes, if Puck didn't see the way Quinn and Mike looked at each other, he'd wonder about what went on between Quinn and Mercedes behind closed doors. "What'd you think?"

"You were fucking hot, babe," Puck said. "But you scared the crap outta me up there."

"Thanks," Kurt said, letting Puck take his hand. But they didn't touch anywhere else, and Kurt was still seated angled somewhat away from him, so Puck wasn't really sure where they stood. He knew exactly where he and Finn stood; Finn was torn between shooting despairing looks at either Rachel or Kurt and baleful glares at him; if looks could kill he'd be a crater of acid next to Finn's overlarge shoes by now. "He's getting ready for us."

And, sure enough: "But we've got more than just some tapes, guys, so let's give it up for New Directions!"

Thankfully, the plan had been last-minute enough and both Kurt and Quinn had agreed that in keeping with the spirit of the music video for the song the club had all just dressed in plain old blue jeans and flannel tops; Kurt had taken the care to leave the shirt open to display a fashionable T-shirt underneath it and Puck was reassured that the flannel look wasn't another creepy attempt by Kurt to go straight like that disastrous time he'd made out with Brittany (which was something Puck _so_ didn't want to think about because it was wrong on so many levels).

Quinn stepped forward as soft, tranquil music played over the system. When Puck had first heard Madonna's arrangement the rock fan in his soul had been pissed, but as he'd gotten a better listen he could actually appreciate what she'd done to the song and how she'd made it mean something for her and for people in the now.

_A long, long time ago_

_I can still remember  
How that music used to make me smile  
And I knew that if I had my chance  
That I could make those people dance  
And maybe they'd be happy for a while_

As the music kicked into the higher beat forward, Puck stepped into the easy dance steps. For a moment he almost felt foolish trying to dance after the Cheerios' performance, but then he remembered how they'd all watched the music video and Kurt's words on how it was the simplicity of a song that everyone knew, that could touch you without trying, that really made this song a classic, so Puck just went with it as Finn stepped forward to take the next solo:

_Did you write the Book of Love?  
And do you have faith in God above—  
if the Bible tells you so?  
Now do you believe in rock 'n roll?  
And can music save your mortal soul?  
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?_

He danced back as Artie rolled to the front, his voice ringing out proud and strong as the others fell into step and Puck felt some of the tension of the day just fading as he let the music take him out of the bullshit, just for a moment, tasting something like Nirvana.

_Well, I know that you're in love with him  
'Cause I saw you dancing in the gym  
You both kicked off your shoes—  
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues_

Puck grinned as he stepped up for his solo, feeling loose:

_I was a lonely teenage broncin' buck  
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck  
But I knew that I was out of luck  
The day the music died_

I started singing

And just like that, they were all in it together, singing away the animosity, and Puck and Finn even danced closer together, because it didn't matter that much anymore.

_Bye-bye Miss American Pie  
Drove my Chevy to the levee  
But the levee was dry  
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye  
Singing "This will be the day that I die;  
This will be the day that I die"_

Santana and Brittany went to the different sides of the gym and led the crowd to start clapping in time to the beat, bopping their heads with the music, and as the crowd started to really get into it Puck felt it all coming together just the way it should as Mike stepped up and twirled Tina around himself while he sang:

_I met a girl who sang the blues  
And I asked her for some happy news  
But she just smiled and turned away  
Well, I went down to the sacred store  
Where I'd heard the music years before  
But the man there said the music wouldn't play_

Puck grinned as Kurt took the lead, his voice low and husky and a perfect counterpoint to the heights he'd reached earlier as he crooned:

_Well now, in the streets the children screamed,  
The lovers cried and the poets dreamed  
But not a word was spoken  
The church bells all were broken_

Mercedes stepped forward, her strong voice scaled back slightly as she harmonized rather than took the lead, the two of them joining hands as they sang:

_And the three men I admired most—  
The Father, Son and the Holy Ghost—  
They caught the last train for the coast  
The day the music died_

They started singing

And then, to Puck's surprise, Brittany and Santana's work paid off as other voices from the audience joined theirs as the lights flared, the entire school heartily chanting in a sweet, sweet melody:

_Bye-bye, Miss American Pie  
Drove my Chevy to the levee  
But the levee was dry  
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye  
Singin' "This will be the day that I die;  
This will be the day that I die"_

Bye-bye, Miss American Pie  
Drove my Chevy to the levee  
But the levee was dry  
And good old boys were drinking whiskey and rye  
Singin' "This will be the day that I die;  
This will be the day that I die"

When the music ended and Kurt's hand slipped into Puck's while applause rained down on them, everything felt like it was going to be alright.

**888**

When they all went back to the choir room to celebrate, Santana declared that they were partying at her house that night, to which she got a round of applause. As the club started to split away, Puck watched as Finn drew Kurt to the side to say something, and Kurt curled in on himself as Finn grew frustrated before finally Finn shot one last look at Puck and hurried out of the room, probably running after Rachel. Kurt glanced down at the ground miserably before he looked at Puck. They were alone in the room now, and Kurt sighed, one more of his walls beginning to crack.

"I've been thinking about what you said this morning…" Kurt began.

"Forget it," Puck said. "I was just yelling."

"No, Noah," Kurt said firmly. "You were right to throw that at me. I…haven't been dealing with things well lately. And if you think talking about this thing will help I can do that. I'm just…not ready to tell anyone about it…"

"What about Mr. Schue? You know he's totally cool about not saying anything, right?" Puck said, working on spur of the moment.

"Okay," Kurt said, looking like he felt about ten inches high. "Could you go find him, please?"

"Sure," Puck agreed willingly enough, a plan starting to whisper in the back of his mind – a place he tried to ignore when he didn't want to get into trouble. But it was niggling back there like a compulsion growing stronger. He tried to forget about it as he hit the gym and found Schue warily trying to avoid Sylvester as she recapped signs of weakness in her squad and her insistence that no photography be done so that the secrets of her nationals win didn't hit the market.

"You would know nothing about marketability, William," she commented. "Unless, of course, you lived up to the true potential of how _awful_ your hair looks – you could allow me to shave you bald and we could put that noxious, oily mass of degenerate filth that you call a scalp through my trusty juicer and come out with hair gel for the Wookie costumes on the next George Lucas rip-off."

"Um, Mr. Schuester?" Puck called out, smirking slightly when he saw how relieved the man was to lope over to him. "Kurt wants to talk to you about something private…like, about this morning and all."

Schue's eyes widened as he nodded. "Okay. Just give me a second, okay?" Puck nodded and Schue clapped him on the shoulder as he grabbed his bag and then they headed out the door with Sue's voice floating out after them—

"It's never too late to donate that glob of glut to Locks of Love! Don't think the grease will deter them – they need some form of filth to create weaves!"

Mr. Schuester winced as they kept walking, and Puck tried hard to focus on the man praising their performance and on Sylvester's brutal pwnage of the man's hair or on anything that his inner miscreant telling him exactly what he was about to do. They fell silent as they approached the door, and once more Kurt's voice floated out, though this time hesitant and unsure, timid in a way that Kurt was never timid while he was singing.

_I've been up all night drinking  
To drown my sorrow down  
Nothing seems to help me since you went away  
I'm so tired of this town  
Where every tongue is wagging  
When every back is turned  
They're telling secrets that should never be revealed  
There's nothing to be gained from this  
But disaster…  
Here's a good one—  
Did you hear about my friend?  
He's embarrassed to be seen now  
Because we all know his sins_

If I had the chance love  
You know, I would not hesitate  
To tell you all the things I never said before  
Don't tell me it's too late

Cause I've relied on my illusions  
To keep me warm at night  
But I denied in my capacity to love  
I am willing to give up this fight  
Oh, I am willing to give up this fight…

"Thanks for telling me, Noah," Mr. Schue said. "I'll see you later?"

"Right," Puck said hoarsely. That was all he'd needed to hear. His mind was made up. When Mr. Schue closed the door, Puck easily used his finger to keep it from closing all the way, hearing everything, as he hid next to the door to eavesdrop. If Kurt wasn't going to tell him, then Puck needed to know, more than anything…Trying to fight off the guilt in his stomach, Puck clenched his fists and willed his heart to stop pounding as Mr. Schuester's gentle voice drifted out.

"I know you've been through a lot lately, Kurt. That performance in there was amazing, but I doubt that I'm the only one that sees how stressed out you are. Are you sure you don't want to be having this conversation with one of the other kids?"

"I'm sure," Kurt said steadily, in that way that said he was looking away from whoever he was talking to. "I don't…I don't want them to look at me differently, or to…I don't know. It's hard, talking about this, about how I've let it screw me up this bad, but I…"

"It's okay, Kurt," Schue said gently. "Just start at the beginning. You don't have to tell me everything, but I won't interrupt and I won't tell anyone else. This is just between you and me, okay?"

The pain in Puck's gut took a sharp twist.

"I suppose, what it all boils down to is Finn," Kurt said softly. "What he did, that I…"

"Kurt," Mr. Schuester said, sounding like he was reaching out to touch Kurt's hand. "_What_ did Finn do?"

"He kissed me. And then he made me feel the worst I've ever felt in my entire life. And the funny thing was? He was trying to make me feel better."

Puck closed his eyes and bowed his head, and inside, he snapped.

**END OF CHAPTER**

**A/N:** Bum bum BUUUUM! Thought I'd _never_ get around to actually telling you what was going on, didn't you? Don't be too mad at Puck, though – wouldn't you do the same in his situation? I think that I would, but then, I'm mad, so don't trust _me_! Don't worry, though – you get the whole story next chapter. Till then!

_**NEXT TIME ON "KURT'S GAMBLE"**_ – Kurt tells the entire story, Puck overreacts, Finn overreacts, all three reach their breaking point, and some things just can't be fixed overnight. As Lady Gaga and Beyoncé said in the "Telephone" music video: "Trust is like a mirror: you can fix it if it's broke, but you can still see the cracks in that motherfucker's reflection."

**SONGS USED IN THIS CHAPTER:**

"_**Before He Cheats" by Carrie Underwood**_ – Still one of the more fun breakup songs; ever since I saw the kids perform "Last Name" I've been dying for one of them to tackle this one (actually, I've been dying to see _Santana_ tackle this one, crazy bitch that she is).

"_**Loving You Is Easy" by Sarah McLachlan**_ – In my head, the key of this song is much less cheerful and much slower-paced. This song is, of course, off of Sarah McLachlan's new album _The Laws of Illusion_ which, in my opinion, is her best album since _Fumbling Towards Ecstasy_. Simply amazing; you must check it out.

"_**Harem" by Sarah Brightman**_ – The title track off of the world's greatest soprano (screw you; I will maintain this till I die (LOL))'s middle-eastern concept album _Harem_; it's a phenomenal song.

"_**American Pie" by Madonna**_ – Puck's thoughts echo mine here; at first I didn't like this at all but as I kept listening to it it's become one of my favorites of hers; there's just something about the arrangement and the way she sings it that makes it both a contemporary ballad and a wistful look back to yesteryear. Props to the Queen because Don McLean (the original) has come out to say how much he loves this version, too.

"_**Dirty Little Secret" by Sarah McLachlan**_ – Off of her wonderful album _Afterglow_; you can also find a slinky, pretty little remix of this off of the wonderful _Bones_ television soundtrack album.


	13. 13 Medley

**A/N:** Hey, guys!

Sorry that it's been awhile between updates but school and work has been _crazy_ lately, and I had to write this in between my two schedules. Rest assured, however, that this is one of the final three chapters, so this story should be updated again soon since we're so close to the end (a tear escapes, I swear).

Also, for anyone reading my other _Glee_ story _Phantasmagoria_, that will be updated soon as well; this story is just so close to being done that I'm finding myself focused more on this one at the moment.

**Important Note for This Chapter!** This chapter the music is set up like a medley (thus the title) of songs that leads to the conclusion – the music won't be sung like the other music I've included but it's more of an incidental score taking place in the characters' heads.

**Warnings:** Angst. This chapter contains angst. It is the only chapter that gets this angsty and it will be corrected next chapter, but I've had this chapter in mind from day one, so it's all kind of been building up to this. Don't worry.

**An Additional Note:** Please don't hate Finn. I've tried to get in his headspace and it makes sense both what he did and what he does in this chapter and why it would make sense to him. I'd really like to emphasize that this story doesn't necessarily have good guys or bad guys but it's more focused on the characters of the show and why they interact the way that they do.

With all that out of the way, don't let me interrupt your reading of:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

Chapter 13: Medley

**Parte Prima—Kurt's Song:** _The Last Song I'm Wasting on You_

_Sparkling grey  
Through my own veins  
Any more than a whisper  
Any sudden movement of my heart  
And I know, I know I'll have to watch them pass away_

_Just get through this day_

"Kurt, I'm not sure I understand exactly what you mean," Mr. Schuester said carefully. "Are you sure that if you're ready to talk about this, you don't want to try talking to Miss Pillsbury?"

"Mr. Schuester, not to insult your crush or anything, but she isn't exactly the most qualified counselor this school could have hired," Kurt said dryly, running his hands softly over the keys of the piano, barely pressing down hard enough to draw a note. _The piano is as faithful as a lover_, one of his old teachers had once said. _Soft when you need it to be soft, harsh when you need its strength, and capable of drawing out the emotions of a room for all to see when they can't see what's right in front of their face._ Kurt sighed and continued plucking out Evanescence, letting Amy Lee's tortured gothique run through the beating of his heart.

"I don't recognize this," Mr. Schuester said after a moment, and Kurt appreciated how he moved to sit down next to him on the bench, not touching him but not letting him back away from this conversation.

"It's called 'The Last Song I'm Wasting on You,'" Kurt said after a moment.

"It sounds like a song you've become pretty familiar with lately," Schue commented lightly, and Kurt smiled reluctantly. No matter how bumbling he could sometimes be, Will Schuester didn't have a mean bone in his body. He wouldn't judge, or condemn or scorn (well, maybe Coach Sylvester had her own special category, but then, who could blame him for that?).

"It should be," Kurt answered, trying to calm down. "The only other person I've told any of this to is Quinn. I don't even know why she was the first person I called. I haven't even told _Mercedes_ any of this…"

"Maybe because Quinn's been through as much as you have, if not more, in the heart department this year," Schue suggested. "You knew that she'd understand and that she'd know how important it was to not tell anyone until you were ready to get through it on your own."

"Probably," Kurt acknowledged. "But…I don't know that I'm ready…" His hands faltered on the keys.

"So why are you here?"

"Noah," Kurt said softly, picking up the music again, playing stronger, more sure. "He said some things to me today, and I realized that he's right. I've been pushing everyone away from me for so long that I've forgotten how much it hurts to let people in again."

"But it can also feel amazing," Mr. Schuester reminded him, nudging his shoulder. Kurt smiled, thinking of the burning joy of Noah's claiming kiss, and he nodded.

"So, I guess this is where I make my confession – and please, don't think too bad of Finn in this. He really didn't mean…and I didn't…" Kurt frowned and set his mouth. "I have too good of a vocabulary to fall to pieces like this."

"It's okay, Kurt. You know that I'll be listening whenever you're ready."

"I'm ready."

_Give up your way—_

_You could be anything,  
Give up my way,  
and lose myself—  
Not today  
That's too much guilt to pay_

"I used to have the biggest crush on Finn, you know? It was the silliest thing. I didn't even _know_ him. But he was the only one of the people at this school that treated me like I was a human being. Granted, he didn't _stop_ the bullying, but he did what he could to help me _survive_ it. You don't have to give me that look; I'm not thinking about suicide and I never did, either. That's a weak way out, and what would my dad do without me to take care of him?

"Anyway. Finn Hudson. Tall, handsome, popular, and suddenly he was in glee club and actually _talking_ to me, and I guess I sort of let it all go to my head. Suddenly, Finn was real, and if I just tried hard enough then I could show him that we could be _great_, you know? I'm not proud of the way that I acted – hell, even _Rachel_ had higher moral ground than me, and she was trying to steal him from Quinn from day one. But after everything that had happened between Quinn and Noah, suddenly I was Finn's best friend. He'd actually call me for advice and just to talk, and it was really nice, you know?

"That was when I came up with my oh-so-brilliant plan to get his mom to meet my dad so he'd have even more excuses to hang out with me – I didn't even _see_ or _care_ how uncomfortable he was getting. Mercedes and Quinn were both trying to tell me over and over how much this was going to hurt when it blew up in my face, but I didn't want to listen to them or believe them so I'd just change the subject, or I would tell myself that I didn't care. But then when Finn and my dad hit it off, suddenly Finn was the son my dad always kind of wanted – masculine, sports-obsessed, _straight_.

"Then, when Finn moved in, it just got worse, because suddenly I had to actually _see_ Finn Hudson – who cares so _much_ about what the idiots in this school think about him that he actually asked me to stop being so 'gay' around other people, who didn't want to do Lady Gaga just because the gay kid wanted to. So I tried…really, really hard…I redid the room so he'd be more comfortable and I guess I just have too much style because he just snapped. Told me he'd known how I felt about him and that he was tired of dealing with me, and then he called me a faggot."

Kurt's voice tightened and his fingers clawed on the keys, the piano notes turning sour for a brief moment before he continued with the melody.

_Sickened in the sun  
You dare tell me you love me  
But you held me down and screamed you wanted me to die  
Honey you know, you know I'd never hurt you that way  
You're just so pretty in your pain_

"After my dad kicked him out I guess he decided that he was sorry, because you know he showed up to school in a Gaga outfit to tell the jocks to leave me alone like that made everything okay with us, but it wasn't. I couldn't suddenly go back to staring at him all starry-eyed, he made sure of _that_. But Carole still lives with us and my dad let him back in the house, so I decided that the best thing was to try to forget the whole thing ever happened, but Finn just wouldn't let it go; he kept taking me out for coffee or seeing if I wanted to hang out with the guys, or he'd ditch hanging out with his friends if I was home alone so that he could spend time with me…

"And, no offence Mr. Schue, but Finn is kind of your teacher's pet, and you know how hard it is to stay mad at him – he's like a puppy, you know? So much of his life is dependent on how people think about him. So I forgave him, of course, because I still cared about him, no matter how _stupid_ that was, but how could I stay mad at him when he was being so _nice_ to me?

"Then, one night, a little after regionals, before he and Rachel were officially back together, I was crying, because it was the night before my mom passed away, and my dad had to work because of some big stupid project, and I was just letting it get to me because every year me and dad always make her spaghetti recipe and watch her favorite movies, and it was like…I love Carole, really I do, but it was like now that she's here dad could forget about mom, and I just sort of lost it. And, Finn didn't want me to cry anymore, so he just held me, and then he kissed me…"

Kurt trailed off, the notes of the song dying down slightly as his hands slid further away from the keys. "And how did that make you feel, Kurt?" Mr. Schue said softly, the first thing he'd said in a while. Kurt tried as hard as he could to blink away the tears, but one traitorous droplet slid from one of his eyes as he smiled, harsh and bittersweet.

"Amazing. I went to bed that night feeling like I was floating on a cloud. And the next day, Finn wasn't even being awkward around me. We had breakfast together like everything was normal, and when me and my dad went to visit her grave, Carole had to work and Finn said he was going to stay at home. I remember putting roses down on my mom's grave and telling her about how I'd kept my heart open, just like she said…" Kurt trailed off long enough to wipe away a tear, pausing in the music – it'd been like there was a noise in the hallway, a grunt of pain cut off, but Kurt chalked it up to his imagination; the early dismissal meant the school let out at one, and it was almost two now. He and Schue were the only ones here.

"Sorry," he said, after a moment of silence, finding his thread in the music and starting back up again.

"Don't worry about it," Mr. Schuester said firmly, squeezing Kurt's shoulder but letting go quickly. Kurt smiled to himself as he remembered how attentive to his students Schue really was; Kurt wasn't usually comfortable with casual contact.

"We got home late that night, and my dad was really quiet. He asked me if I was really okay with Carole moving in, again, which I thought was strange but I didn't really think about it, so I reassured him that I was happy he'd found love again. My dad really deserves that, you know? But, we were really quiet getting in and I went down to my room to change into my nightclothes, and then I headed upstairs to get some water, and that was when I realized that Finn had Rachel over, in our kitchen, and they were holding hands. I guess they'd just made up or something, again. I'm not sure – I'm still not sure. I just know that my heart fell, and…I decided to listen to their conversation. Sometimes I wonder if it wouldn't have hurt so much if I'd just taken it at face value and gone to bed…

"She was asking him why he thought kissing me had been a good idea right after he'd told her that he loved her at regionals, and he told her…he told her he cared about me too much and he didn't like it when I was mad at him, so he was trying to cheer me up and get us to be friends again. She got all jealous and asked him what it was like, and…and he said…" Kurt forcefully swallowed around the bile in his throat and continued, his fingers digging deeper into the keys, digging out staccato. "He told her that it was like kissing a _girl_ only 'gross' and that he just felt so _bad_ for me, sitting there _crying_, and he wanted to cheer me _up_. My first kiss – my first real kiss – which had been so wonderful to me, from the boy I'd been in love with for _forever_, he gave me out of _pity_ with his eyes screwed shut so he wouldn't gross himself out. I guess I'm just so _girly_ that he could pretend I was _Rachel_."

"Kurt…I'm sure that Finn didn't mean to hurt you," Mr. Schuester started hesitantly, and Kurt snorted violently, easing back from the piano.

"Of course Finn didn't _mean_ to hurt me," he cut him off. "He never _means_ to hurt anybody; he just _does_. And then we forgive him. And I almost did – I cried my eyes out that night but I half-convinced myself that it'd all be alright if he could just tell me that he'd just been trying to get Rachel to forgive him, that he didn't mean any of it. But the next day he avoided me like the plague, like I could give him the gay or something, and when we had family dinner that night he invited Rachel over for dinner so they could hold hands and Rachel could meet Carole, right in front of me."

_Give up my way, and I could be anything  
I'll make my own way  
Without your senseless hate_

"I…kind of lost it, actually. I was so rude to Rachel that even _Carole_ asked me if I was feeling alright. I went into the kitchen to try to calm down and grab myself something to drink, but Finn followed me in there so he could ask me what was wrong. He honestly didn't understand why I was so upset. I tried to remind him about the kiss but he just backtracked, all panicked, and he told me he thought that I'd be happy for him and Rachel because we were friends again. I just asked him to leave and told everyone that I was going downstairs because Rachel's voice was giving me a headache and I locked the door. You know, she had a right to be as mad at me as she was at first when all this blew up. My dad didn't even know what to say. I've never seen him so shocked – well, except maybe when I came home with my hair done. Then he really couldn't say anything – but that was more recent.

"Later that night, when I was sure Finn was gone to drive Rachel home and probably cool off from how angry I'd made him, I snuck upstairs to sneak some water and some Advil, and I heard my dad and Carole talking from the upstairs bedroom. I swear, I've learned my lesson about eavesdropping. They were talking about me, of course. Even Carole had realized by then what I felt for Finn, and they were talking about if I'd ever get over it or if Finn would hurt me any worse than I was hurting myself – they had no idea about what had happened. And then I heard my dad…I heard my dad say that he thought that I'd fallen for Finn because I didn't think I was worth anyone I _could_ have, and that…that sometimes he wished I'd been born a _girl_ – not because he hated that I'm gay, but because his biggest fear for me was that I wouldn't find a good guy and that I'd spend the rest of my life alone and scared, without a family to call my own, and that he was afraid that I'd freeze everyone out so much that if I ever _did_ find someone, I'd drive them off all on my own.

"And you know what I hate the most about all of it? I _still care about him_!"

Kurt finally choked as what felt like a big, burning ball of _emotion_ – rage, pain, shame, self-disgust – boiled outward from the icy walls he'd tried to erect around his heart, and he didn't even notice when Mr. Schuester had pulled him into a hug and he was sobbing his heart out onto Schue's hopelessly fashion-backwards blue vest. Oddly enough, he thought he heard a banging sound from out in the hall, but he couldn't think coherently enough to focus on it.

_So run, run, run  
And hate me, if it feels good  
I can't hear your screams anymore_

After what felt like an eternity, Kurt pulled back and smiled apologetically at Mr. Schue, who just shrugged and handed him a box of Kleenex. Kurt sighed as he started wiping the rain of tears away, blowing his nose, and when he was done Mr. Schuester, looking incredibly patient and understanding, simply asked "Feel better?"

"Actually, yeah, a little," Kurt said shakily.

"Sometimes crying can do that. I don't think you've let yourself break down about this yet, have you?"

"No – I was afraid that once I started, I wouldn't stop. God, I don't even _recognize_ myself anymore," Kurt said, banging his head on the piano.

"Well, lately you and Finn seem to be on better ground," Mr. Schue said. "I always like to try to look at things optimistically. What happened was regrettable but you've done something amazing with it, Kurt: you've found yourself. You've strengthened your friendships with every one of your team members, from what I've seen you and Finn are on your way to becoming real friends now that some of these feelings are starting to clear up. And I don't think I've ever seen Noah Puckerman as stable as when he's with you. What do _you_ want to happen?"

"I want to be with Noah," Kurt said, allowing a small, dreamy smile to bush across his features. "He…I feel amazing with him – like the way he looks at me. I've never actually felt…attractive, before, you know? He lets his guard down when he's with me and he'll let me see _Noah_, not _Puck_, the kind of guy you'd _want_ to know, who'd be a good father to Beth and…" Kurt trailed off, and he smiled.

"What?" Mr. Schuester asked, nudging Kurt's shoulder like he already knew the answer.

"I'm not in love with Finn anymore," Kurt said wonderingly, as what felt like a huge, fifty pound weight was lifted from his shoulders. "I love _Noah_."

"Good," Schue said, as if that's what Kurt had been saying all along. Maybe he had been.

"I was _never_ in love with Finn," Kurt continued, slowly finding his way along what felt like a cross between a dangerous precipice and the sunrise. "He was…my dad was actually kind of right. Finn was _safe_, because he'd never want me back, and he'd never disappoint me. But Puck's real, and…I should go _tell_ him this!" Kurt looked up to see Mr. Schuester's radiant smile, the smile he gave to a student who'd just solved a particularly hard problem, and he didn't protest when Kurt gave him a fierce hug. "You're the greatest teacher, Mr. Schue," he said fervently.

"Thanks, Kurt." Schuester pulled back after a moment and nodded towards the door. "But don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Right," Kurt said firmly. He smiled slyly as he started for the door, and turned around with a mischievous smile. "You know, the next time Coach Sylvester starts in on your hair, you _could_ go after her tracksuits. Not that that's a touchy subject for her, or anything." Mr. Schuester's grin widened comically and Kurt made a beeline for the door, practically skipping, as he hummed the rest of the song to himself triumphantly.

_You lied to me  
But I'm older now  
And I'm not buying, baby  
Demanding my response—  
Don't bother breaking the door down  
I've found my way out_

And you'll never hurt me again.

**Parte Secunda—Finn's Song: **_Even the Devil Wouldn't Recognize You_

_As quiet as it is tonight  
You'd almost think you were safe  
Your eyes are full of surprises  
They cannot predict my fate  
Waiting underneath the stars  
There's something you should know  
The angels they surround my heart  
Telling me to let you go_

Finn Hudson had locked the door of Santana's bathroom while he stared at himself in the mirror and wondered how the hell he'd gotten here.

Outside, the party raged on, and Finn guessed that he should've been happy; the jocks and the gleeks and the Cheerios were all shoulder to shoulder dancing with Santana and Brittany at the helm, and there hadn't been one slur about gay people (but then, Finn figured, it'd been really hot when they were making out and also all the jocks were dead scared of Santana). It was what he'd always wanted, right? Instead, he'd locked himself in the bathroom and was staring in the mirror wondering when he'd managed to screw things up this monumentally.

It had all probably started with Kurt. Now that had been a stupid thing to do. Finn had done plenty of dumb stuff (with Puck, mostly) but that had really taken the cake as his mom would say – not that Finn understood that phrase because, what cake? He wondered if there was cake in Santana's fridge and snapped himself back out of it. Wasn't Kurt always saying that deep thinking only happened when you were alone and quiet? Well, what Kurt _had_ always said, because Kurt still wasn't really talking to him and that _so_ wasn't fair! Finn had _tried_ to apologize even when he wasn't sure what he was apologizing _for_ (because Rachel told him to); shouldn't that count for something?

Of course not, and now everyone was on _Puck's_ side, and how freaking backwards was _that_? Puck was a total douche for taking Quinn and now taking Kurt and even _Rachel_ is talking to Puck and not to Finn, and Finn clenched his fist and slammed it into the kitchen sink. Puck just took _everything_ didn't he? He took Quinn and he took baby Drizzle and now he's even taking all of Finn's friends and damn it, Kurt shouldn't be _looking_ at Puck like that because why couldn't Kurt see that Finn was just trying to protect him from _when_ Puck would hurt him (not _if_); Puck would hurt him so much worse than Finn had hurt him Finn was sure of it.

_I bet you couldn't  
I bet you couldn't recognize but I've been hidin' to it  
Who am I to criticize?  
Somehow I'll get through it and you won't even realize  
Falling for your own disguise_

It's like over and over you're pushing me  
Right down to the floor  
I should just walk away.  
Over and over I keep on coming back for more  
I play into your fantasy  
Now that it's over  
You can lie to me right through your smile  
I've seen behind your eyes  
Now it's over, no more intoxicating my mind

Finn ran his hands through his hair and sat down on the toilet. He hated this new Kurt, the unapproachable and popular and mean. This new Kurt was perfect for Puck but it wasn't the _real_ Kurt, the Kurt with the gentle smiles and the soft touches and the pain that he tried to hide behind his eyes whenever Finn put his big, stupid foot in it. Stupid Puck. Finn looked up as the door opened and he tried to smile when Rachel stepped in, but the look on her face was very much the 'I'm going to talk and you're going to listen' and he didn't like it when Rachel did that.

"Why are you in here, Finn? Shouldn't you be out at the party?" Rachel asked, her voice coming out something like accusing.

"No one wants me out there," he said gloomily. "They want _Puck_ out there."

"Maybe because Noah's the only one who's been acting like—"

"Oh, so it's _Noah_ now, huh?" Finn ejaculated, jerking up. "You're just as bad as Kurt!"

"If you think for one second that me being friends with Noah is the same thing as Kurt having a relationship with him then maybe I was wrong to say that the two of you aren't together!" Rachel cried waspishly. "Do you even _hear_ yourself anymore, Finn? You sound like a jealous boyfriend!"

"I _was_ your boyfriend until you _dumped_ me!" Finn yelled.

"I only broke up with you because you're acting like an immature, boorish philistine who never put me first in his life!" Rachel snapped. "Football, your own obsession with popularity and Kurt Hummel all came before me in that order, Finn Hudson, and I deserved better than that!"

"Oh, like if I'd ever gotten in the way of your 'career' you wouldn't have thrown me out like trash!" Finn yelled. He didn't even know _why_ he was so angry; all he knew was that he was heaving like an angry bull and shaking like he only did when he was really upset and his mom was the only one who could hold onto him and make him stop. And she was _totally_ wrong; he _didn't_ care about Kurt like that…did he? Finn was starting to confuse himself.

"That's completely unfair, Finn," Rachel said quietly, her lip quivering, and he just wanted to hold her and make her stop crying but he was so confused and upset at this point that the bathroom was spinning and he didn't trust himself to step forward. "My career is my _life_ – we're just in high school. I'm not asking you to get married; I just want you to stop ruining our relationship because you're having a crisis over what you're feeling for Kurt."

"I'm not having a crisis over Kurt!" Finn protested hotly. "Just because I think he deserves better than a scumbag like Puck doesn't mean—"

"Well, _who_ would you want for him, Finn? _You_?"

"_No_ – I don't _know_, okay?" Finn hollered. "Why do you have to just keep pushing all the freaking _time_! I'm not the only reason we broke up!"

"Yes you are!" Rachel cried dramatically, her chest heaving. She finally went quiet and glanced down before looking up, her stage show in place. "A diva is always alone in the end. I should have remembered that. Goodbye, Finn." With that, she flounced out of the bathroom and stormed out of the house, and Finn stared after her for a moment before his legs started working properly and he wobbled out after her.

_Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do  
I do, I do_

"Good god, you weren't in there having freakish geek sex, were you? Because I think I'll throw up," Santana complained. Then she caught sight of his face. "Jesus, Hudson. Go back downstairs." She thrust a glass of _something_ in his hand and Finn totally knew that he shouldn't have drank it because he was a complete lightweight and Puck always warned him about the liquor Santana served at her parties – but then Finn thought about _Puck_ and _screw it_ and he was draining half the glass as he stumbled down into the kitchen.

Rachel had _no idea_ what she was talking about…did she?

Finn avoided looking in the mirror as he went into the kitchen.

_You almost fooled yourself this time  
That all the saints be praised  
You hide your sadness behind your smile  
And you keep your lost heartbreaks  
The steps that hedge along the ledge  
It's much higher than it seems  
But I've been on that ledge before  
You can't hide yourself from me_

I bet you couldn't  
I bet you couldn't recognize, I still play right to it  
Who am I to criticize?  
Somehow I'll get through it and you won't even realize  
Falling for your own disguise

Thank god the window was open, because Finn felt like he was going to puke. He let the cool air slide over his sweaty face and whimpered as he felt what was probably a migraine coming on. He didn't…_like_ Kurt like that, did he? He was completely straight…but…Finn felt like he was chasing something around in circles, just out of reach, and he _didn't_ like this damn song and why the hell did Santana have to play it all freaking night?

_It's like over and over you're pushin' me  
Right down to the floor  
I should just walk away  
Over and over I keep on coming back for more  
I play into your fantasy  
Now that it's over  
You can lie to me right through your smile  
I've seen behind your eyes  
Now it's over no more intoxicating my mind_

Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, I do  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, I do  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, I do  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, I do  
I do, I do

Kurt was the coolest guy ever and he was one of Finn's best friends, and he totally deserved someone who was good to him and nice to him and wouldn't hurt him, because Puck was totally going to hurt Kurt just like he hurt everyone else. Kurt needed stable, and Puck was an explosive, and Finn just wanted to protect Kurt from the blast because he was so small and he couldn't take care of himself, and what if Rachel was right? What if _he_ was the only one who was good enough for Kurt? Could he be that guy for Kurt, the one who used to make his eyes light up and that dreamy smile go across his face? God, Finn missed that _look_ in Kurt's eyes that made him feel a mile high whenever he so much as walked into a room.

Now, Kurt couldn't even stand to look at him, and it was all his fault because Finn had screwed it up just like he always screws everything up. He banged his head against the window.

"Finn? What the hell are you doing?" Quinn asked, her voice sharp and cold as the wind, practically slapping him out of his weepy stupor. Stupid drinks.

She was so beautiful, and Puck had stolen her from him just like Rachel and _Kurt_ and baby Drizzle, and Finn heaved himself drunkenly into her arms (the statuesque blonde's eyes widened in horror as he blew his nose on her shirt and sobbed drunkenly into her neck). "I screwed everything up, Quinnie, I know I did," he whispered brokenly. Her heavenly perfume was invading his senses and making his head spin even worse.

"There, there," she said, sighing. "Now get off of me."

"I don't…you shouldn't have left me either. Why does everyone leave me?" Finn whimpered. Now Quinn was looking alarmed and practically shoving at him. He just wanted everything to go back to the way it was before glee happened, and screw it, her lips were gorgeous and he didn't want to think about being the best boyfriend to Kurt ever and he was just tired of _thinking_ so he dove forward and went for her lips.

_It's like over and over you're pushin' me  
Right down to the floor  
I should just walk away  
Over and over I keep on coming back for more  
I play into your fantasy  
Now that it's over you can lie to me  
Right through your smile  
I've seen behind your eyes  
Now it's over no more intoxicating my mind_

Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, you you you  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, you you you  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, you you you  
Even the devil wouldn't recognize you, but I do, I do, I do

For just a moment, she was as still and cold as a statue of that war goddess that had been on display at the museum they'd went to when they were in elementary school, before she shoved him away from her. Quinn looked upset and hurt and shocked and absolutely enraged, and before he knew what she was doing she'd slapped him across the face so hard his ears started ringing.

"How _dare_ you?" she shrieked. The music cut off abruptly as Santana and Brittany, called like dogs to the head Cheerio's cry, led the rest of the glee club into the kitchen – but Quinn didn't seem to notice. "After _everything_ you've put all of us through these last couple of months?"

"What _I've_ put _you_ through, you _bitch_?" Finn bellowed, and just like that, the cork was out and ever nasty thing he'd ever longed to hurl at them all was just pouring out because he was just so _sick_ of it all. "Like when you _cheated_ on me and took away my _baby_?" Quinn flinched back, looking like he'd punched her. "Now, what, _you're_ gonna leave me for Puck too? You think I didn't hear about how he was _sexting_ while he was 'with' you, and you're trying to tell _me_ that _I'm_ screwed up? I'm so _sick_ of _everyone_ acting like _I'm_ the bad guy here when I'm always the one that's got to lead all of you and I'm just _done_! Screw you guys and all of your freaking problems!"

"Dude – you really need to put that drink down before I cut you," Mercedes said warningly.

"I DON'T NEED TO PUT MY DRINK DOWN!" Finn roared and threw the cup at the wall hard enough for it to explode, raining alcohol down on Brittany, who looked ready to cry. Santana's eyes burned fire as she exploded forward and grabbed his arm with bruising strength, dragging him forward and shaking him hard enough for his teeth to rattle.

"You listen to me _right_ now, Hudson! You need to calm the hell down! Is this what you were going for?" She shoved his head to the side so he could see Quinn trembling, white-faced, Brittany sobbing, and the rest of the gleeks looking completely scared like the way they used to when he was just a quarterback and Karofsky's best bud besides, but Finn was so mad and scared and confused that he just shoved her off him hard enough that even Santana stumbled back.

"Keep your hands off me, you god damn slut!" Santana's eyes widened and there was a collective gasp. In the dead silence, an awfully familiar, loud truck roared down the road and Finn's gut tightened as Puck burst through the door, looking madder than Finn had ever seen him, and then, as if it was something they'd both agreed on, they just went for it. The alcohol had dulled his senses so Finn didn't really feel the punishing blows that Puck was raining down on him, and Finn was just punching back, and they rolled over and knocked the lamp off the table with a loud crash and just as Finn was about to slam his fist into Puck's stupid face, Quinn Fabray snapped out of her shock.

If Finn had thought that Santana was strong, he really hadn't been paying attention to that slap, because he and Puck were both hauled off and thrown in the opposite direction so hard that Finn finally gave in and threw up all over Santana's rug. The ringing in his ears started to die down as a cold dollop of sobriety slipped through him and he looked up warily. Quinn was standing in between the two of them with her fists clenched, daring either of them to make a move. Santana looked more shaken than Finn had ever seen her, holding onto Brittany. Tina was clutching Artie's hand while Mike stood ready to move in to back Quinn up.

"Okay, I don't know what the _hell_ just happened, but Finn, just _shut up_." Quinn sneered at him viciously when he tried to speak, and he snapped his mouth shut. She turned the terrifying glare on Puck and he subsided. "Now, Noah. Why the hell did you just come in here and start trying to break his ribs?"

"Kurt told me what the hell that _bastard_ did!" Puck snarled, and Finn felt his heart plummet. Oddly enough, that seemed to make Quinn even angrier.

"Oh, he did, did he? Funnily enough, I seem to remember you asking Mr. Schue to talk to him, _alone_. Eavesdropping, much?" she asked with a voice sweet as poisoned honey. Puck's mouth snapped shut. "You had _no right_ to do that, Puck, and frankly, after everything you've told me about how you feel about Kurt, I'm ashamed of you." Puck's face colored up, and she turned her back on him disdainfully. "Finn, I'm taking you home right now. Where are your keys?"

Finn numbly handed them off to her, and she took him firmly by the elbow and hauled him towards the front door.

"Finn!" Brittany yelled. Maybe it was the fact that Brittany actually raised her voice, but everyone turned to see her. Her lip was trembling and the usually happy mask was gone; she looked like someone had just kicked a kitten in front of her. She stomped forward and before anyone could blink she'd kicked Finn in the balls as hard as she could. Finn crumpled, moaning pitifully, but Quinn sighed irritably and hauled him out of the house.

The cold night air rushing past his window helped his headache, but Finn still felt like he could happily crawl in a hole and kill himself. Quinn sighed sadly. "Finn, tell me everything that Rachel said to you in that bathroom."

"Quinn—"

"Finnegan Hudson, I know exactly what happened between you and Kurt and exactly why it happened but I'm willing to bet fifty dollars that you _don't_ know why it happened and Rachel just made you really confused. Oh, and if you ever drink around me again, I'll choke you. Now, start talking."

_Even the devil wouldn't recognize you  
I do._

**Finale—Puck's Song: Don't Tell Me**

_You held my hand and walked me home, I know  
While you gave me that kiss it was something like this—it made me go oh-oh  
You wiped my tears, got rid of all my fears, why did you have to go?  
Guess it wasn't enough to take up some of my love—  
Guys are so hard to trust  
Did I not tell you that I'm not like that girl?  
The one who gives it all away?_

Puck had never been so scared in his life. His emotions were running on full-blown freakout mode, and here he stood, trembling, in Kurt's basement, as Kurt was sitting on the floor next to his palatial bed, dressed in a lovely tight-fitting black t-shirt and designer slacks. He looked like he'd been getting ready to go out, but was now holding the small guitar that he and Puck had bought together a few weeks ago, when everything was still okay and Puck's heart wasn't breaking apart and he'd been teaching Kurt to play the guitar. Worse thing was that he recognized the tune from Kurt's iPod, one of Avril Lavigne's tunes, and maybe Puck would've made fun of him but he'd found out that her second album had actually been pretty damn good back when she was still doing dark rock stuff. This song, though, this was one that Puck never wanted to hear Kurt sing.

Puck had only felt like this once before, when Quinn had been having Beth and for a brief, tiny moment a vein had ruptured and the doctors had had to clamp it to stop the bleeding. Puck's mom had told him later that that wasn't really unusual in childbirth and that the doctors had been so prepared for it that Quinn hadn't even lost enough blood to count for a blood donation, but seeing the ruby fluid drip from a screaming Quinn while Beth had been taken away to be cleaned had scarred Puck to his bones. In that moment he'd been so scared that he'd lose Quinn and his baby, and he'd pinned so much of his heart on the two of them. _This_ was why Puck tried so hard to not care – because it didn't hurt so much when people left you.

Kurt wasn't looking at him now. He was completely closed off to him, and Puck had no idea how to fix it.

Having to listen – having to _know_ – when Kurt told his story to Schue this afternoon, Puck's entire body had felt taught as a bowstring. And having to hear Kurt say that he still cared about Finn after _everything_, Puck had finally snapped. He'd slammed his hand into the lockers behind him and run, run as far and as fast as he could, until he realized he'd slammed into the weight room and he was pounding on the punching bag for all he was worth, taking out months of frustration and fear on the uncompromising leather until his knuckles were raw. Earlier, Puck had been forced to realize how much Kurt cared about him, but now he really knew how much he cared about Kurt. Only Kurt could hurt him like this – well, maybe Quinn could too. But Puck knew that he was second-best to Finn, again, just like with Quinn and with Rachel…

The damn punching bag wasn't enough, and he'd finally stumbled outside and slammed into his truck, roaring to Santana's party and walking in on one hell of a fight that was _all Finn's fault_, just like _everything_ was, and _fuck_ Finn for having _everything_ that Puck wanted without even trying! His fist connecting with Finn's stupid freaking mouth had felt like a song in his heart, and then they were both taking each other down and Puck was pretty sure that he was going to have to tape his ribs when he got home because neither of them had been able to get any head shots in so it was pretty much body shots and it freaking _hurt_, but it had felt so good, _until_…

The sheer look of disgust mixed with pity mixed with anger on Quinn's face after she'd slapped him, the absolute sneer in her voice when she'd said _You had _no right_ to do that, Puck, and frankly, after everything you've told me about how you feel about Kurt, I'm ashamed of you_. Nothing could have cut him deeper than those words, before she'd picked _Finn_ up instead of him and taken him _home_, home to where _Kurt_ was, and Puck just stood there, trembling, until Mercedes Jones had slapped him on his _other_ cheek and snarled at him, "_Look_, white boy, I don't got one freakin' clue _what's_ going on here, but whatever the hell you done to my boy you better fix it, _fast_, or I'mma cut you, get it?" Puck had glanced around, seeing Santana and Brittany holding each other up, the other gleeks looking freaked out or lost and alone, and how the hell had things gone to shit this far this fast?

One more glare from Mercedes and Puck was out the door, taking a shortcut he knew Quinn didn't know about because he _had_ to get to Kurt before Finn did, before Finn could convince Kurt to let Puck go, because Finn could, because Finn was right about one thing – Puck didn't deserve Kurt. He knew that, but there was no way that he could ever let his Princess go. Not now, not ever.

That maxim ringing in his heart, Puck had thrown the door open and ignored a startled Carole coming out of the kitchen as he thundered down the basement stairs to find Kurt, half-dressed to go to Santana's party, softly playing his guitar and looking at nothing, not at Puck, but at the phone laying next to him when he said, "Quinn called."

_Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you? (This time?)  
Did you think that it was something I was gonna do? (And cry?)  
Don't try to tell me what to do,  
Don't try to tell me what to say,  
You're better off that way_

"Kurt…please…"

"Funny thing about eavesdropping," Kurt said, looking up for the first time, his eyes glassy with furiously unshed tears. "You hear all kinds of things that you _don't want to hear_. Isn't that right, Puck?" His nickname sounded wrong on Kurt's sweet lips and all Puck wanted to do was kiss him and make him call him Noah again. "Or did you get everything you wanted to know? Was it hard to wait this long to get me to tell Mr. Schuester so you could hear? Was it fun, having me believe everything you told me instead of actually listening to what you said when this all started about how you were going to find out about it? You going to tell Ben-Israel and put it on his blog so he'll stop telling the school what a slut you are?"

"Kurt, you _can't_ think that's why—"

"Can't I?" Kurt asked, trying desperately to put on a strong face and failing miserably. He looked broken, and Puck had no idea how to fix it. He had an absurd thought of standing in the basement over Kurt with a bottle of glue and had to fight back a hysterical giggle. Everything was going to shit, and he had no one to blame but him.

"Kurt, please, I lo—"

"DON'T YOU FINISH THAT SENTENCE, PUCKERMAN, DON'T YOU _DARE_!" Kurt bellowed. "Don't you _get it_, Puck? I _trusted you_! I gave you _everything_ that I could give! Do you think it was _fun_, telling Mr. Schuester that my first kiss was out of _pity_? Do you have any idea how much that _hurt_, how _humiliating_ that was? And you _made_ me do it because I _believed_ that you wanted me to feel better for _us_, and the whole time you just wanted to hear what I _couldn't_ tell you!"

"_Wouldn't_ tell me!" Puck snapped, yelling right back. "I just wanted to _help_ you because I freaking can't stand seeing you hurt!"

"Maybe you should have thought about that before you did…_god_, I'm so _stupid_," Kurt moaned, sinking back down to the discarded guitar. "I can't believe I really thought…I mean, were you cheating on me this whole time? Is that why you were so patient?"

"Please tell me you don't believe that. _Please_, look at _me_, Kurt, not _Puck_, _Noah_, Kurt, _Noah_ – I'm _begging_ you, don't _do_ this!" Puck sank to his knees, forcing Kurt at eye level, his each word driving in, and maybe Kurt would, could, believe him because Puck felt like he was fighting the battle of his life and Kurt just had his knees drawn up, looking like a scared, lost child, and Puck moved to take him in his arms.

_Don't think that your charm and the fact that your arm is now around my neck  
Will get you in my pants; I'll have to kick your ass and make you never forget  
I'm gonna ask you to stop; I thought I liked you a lot, but I'm really upset  
Get out of my head, get off of my bed – yeah, that's what I said  
Did I not tell you that I'm not like that girl?_

_The one who throws it all away?_

That was when Finn's big feet came stumbling down the stairs, and Finn drew up short at the sight of them. The three of them froze like some weird tableau piece that Kurt had shown Puck on YouTube one time, until Finn's face snapped into a scowl and he growled out, "What the hell do you think you're doing in here, Puck?"

"Screw you, Hudson," Puck snapped, drawing back from a still-frozen Kurt, who was staring between the two of them with wide eyes, and Puck knew why – the basement was Kurt's sanctuary, the one place he got away from the jocks who tormented him daily and the hate mail and phone messages he sometimes got, which was why he was so particular about who was allowed down there. "If either of us needs to leave it's _you_."

"That's really great that you think because I made one mistake with Kurt that _I'm_ the one who needs to leave!" Finn yelled. "_I'm_ not the one who used to throw him in the _dumpster_ every morning!"

"Shut the hell up!" Puck roared. "And you sure as _hell_ never _stopped_ it, did you? You were too freaking scared of the popular kids kicking you out that you came down here and called him a _faggot_ in his own house!" Kurt flinched back, and Puck turned towards him guiltily, knowing how much he hated that word, but Finn stomped forward.

"Don't you freaking touch him, Puckerman!" Finn hollered. "You're not good enough for him!"

"And _what_, you _are_?" Puck demanded, jumping in Finn's face.

"I'm sure as hell better for him that _you_ are!"

_Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you? (This time?)  
Did you think that it was something I was gonna do? (And cry?)  
Don't try to tell me what to do,  
Don't try to tell me what to say,  
You're better off that way_

"You're freaking _straight_, Hudson, and Kurt's _my_ boyfriend; what the hell do you think you're doing?" Puck snarled.

"I could be Kurt's boyfriend!" Finn defended himself, and Puck's eyes widened in shock. "I _could_! And that's what you can't stand, because he was _mine_ before he was _yours_, just like _Quinn_ and _Rachel_, and that's the only reason you even went after him in the first place, wasn't it, because he was someone else's and the _Puckmeister_ just can't stand it if someone else has something that _he_ doesn't!"

"Oh, this is _my_ problem?" Puck screamed. "Quinn wasn't in love with you anyways, you asshole, she was with you because you were the quarterback! And you're _straight_, god damn it; we all know the only reason you even _think_ you like Kurt is because you don't want _me_ to have him!" By now, Kurt was crying, but Puck was so enraged he didn't even notice.

"I'm not the one treating Kurt like a piece of trash!" Finn snapped back. "And we were all _there_, Puck! We all saw what happened with you and Kurt, and the only reason you started 'going out' together is because he's like the _one_ interested person in this school you _haven't_ screwed yet!"

"Stop it…_please_, just stop it," Kurt whispered, and that tiny, broken sound was enough to make both of them freeze and look at the traumatized boy sitting down on the floor, broken and alone.

"Kurt, you don't _believe_ him; tell me you don't _believe_ him," Puck whispered, but the tears were rolling down Kurt's face like acid on Puck's heart.

_This guilt trip that you put me on_

_Won't mess me up; I've done no wrong  
And any thoughts of you and me have gone away_

"Okay, I sent you down here to patch this up, not to start World War III," Quinn said waspishly as she stalked down the stairs, followed by Burt and Carole. As the three of them took in the scene, Quinn's eyes darkened in a way that promised impending pain and destruction when they landed on Kurt's stricken face. Burt looked murderous, but Quinn cut him off with a cold hand gesture and her voice came out in a icy cold, commanding tone that she usually only used on idiot cheerleaders. "Finn Hudson, go upstairs to the bathroom and wash your face with cold water. Then I want you to go to your bedroom and shut the door. Don't come out until tomorrow. Noah Puckerman, go _home_, right now, before you screw this up any worse than you already _have_. Kurt, stay down here. Me and Burt and Carole will be back in a minute." Seeing that no one had moved to accede to her demands, her fists clenched. "_Right NOW!"_

Finn was the first who stumbled upstairs, looking as dazed and sad and confused as if someone had hit him over the head with a frying pan. Puck, shooting one last desperate look at Kurt, who refused to look at him, slowly walked up the stairs. Him. Kurt was crying because of _him_. Feeling lower than dirt, he stumbled past Quinn without daring to look at her either, though she followed him up the stairs. "I'll be by to talk to you tomorrow. Sleep it off," she said coldly, and then shut the door in his face, barring him from the Hummel's house.

_Did you think that I was gonna give it up to you? (This time?)  
Did you think that it was something I was gonna do? (And cry?)  
Don't try to tell me what to do,  
Don't try to tell me what to say,  
You're better off that way_

Quinn Fabray rested her head against the door, taking a deep breath as she turned back to the cozy Hummel house, where Burt looked torn between which teenager he wanted to beat down and Carole was worriedly looking between the upstairs where Finn was and the downstairs where Kurt was, as if debating which one needed her more at the moment.

"It would be _so_ easy," she said finally, "If Finn was gay, because then I could at least get them into a threesome together and spare myself the _angst_." Burt and Carole looked at her in something oddly like horror, and Quinn sighed and rolled her eyes. "_Why_ I've gotten stuck playing the love guru for these _idiots_ is _beyond_ my understanding. _Men_. I have to do _everything_ myself." Pulling out her cell, Quinn shot her mother a text telling her she'd be staying the night at the Hummels. She looked up at a thoroughly confused Burt and Carole and smiled, pulling them into a group hug. "Don't worry about it. I'll get this fixed."

Heading downstairs, Quinn sighed as she saw Kurt, still curled up in the same defensive position she'd left him in. The sight gave her pause. She was used to Kurt being the strong one; always in control, never allowing anything to get to him. When she'd been taken in by Mercedes and she'd finally gotten an opportunity to get to know Kurt better, to get past the shields and the defenses and be allowed in to the huge heart that he hid beneath a layer of ice, Quinn had gained one of the best friends she'd ever known. It was unsettling to see him look so weak and lost and alone, and she vowed to herself that she would fix this because she needed to do it for more than her own peace of mind.

She smiled softly and just sat down next to him, letting him cry it out in her lap and stroking his hair softly, wondering when it had all gone wrong just when it was finally starting to go right, for once.

_(You're better off that way)_

_I'm better off alone anyway._

**SONGS USED IN THIS CHAPTER:**

So, this chapter was formatted differently, as you know, and instead of really singing the songs most of these take place inside of the characters' heads (though the second one technically was playing through Santana's speakers).

"**The Last Song I'm Wasting on You" by Evanescence** – This song was one of the B-sides to Evanescence's magnificent second album _The Open Door_. It's a powerful piano ballad that I've always been able to imagine Kurt singing to Finn since "Theatricality." Of course, it's a little annoying to include it now since Evanescence has pushed back their third album _again_, but still, a beautiful number. In further Evanescence news, if you haven't tried Ben Moody's new band We Are the Fallen's debut album _Tear the World Down_, it actually is quite good if you ignore the fact that it sounds like Moody was just writing what _he_ would have wanted Evanescence's second album to be.

"**Devil Wouldn't Recognize You" by Madonna** – I debated with this one. I love Madonna, I really do – I'm one of her obsessed fans. But this album _Hard Candy_ was MISERABLE. It was the worst thing she's ever done, and from this album there were only three good songs: "4 Minutes" which _Glee_ did an amazing cover of, "Miles Away," and this song. This song is epic. I love this song, but I _hate_ the album it was taken from. I felt it kind of fit the scene, anyway.

"**Don't Tell Me" by Avril Lavigne** – I agree with what I stated in the scene this was used; Lavigne was at her best in _Under My Skin_ and the sugargum pop of _The Best Damn Thing_ offended me so much I stopped listening to her. Her song "Alice" for the _Alice in Wonderland_ soundtrack was so good, though, that I'm giving her a second chance. I'm so glad that she divorced her husband, because from everything that we've heard her new album will finally be coming out and it will be darker, more acoustic, and back to her original style. Thank _god_.

**A/N:** Wow, this chapter took a while to write! I'm really sorry for the wait, but I'm pretty proud of it as it is, so I'm hoping that you all enjoyed it. Just to remind you, there are literally only two chapters left, so I'm fairly certain that this will be finished before October is over – if not, it will be done by the beginning of November.

**Next Time on **_**Kurt's Gamble**_** – Quinn takes over!**

Until next time!


	14. 14 It's a Man's Man's Man's World

**A/N:** Oh, boy, we really only have one chapter left after this – it's kind of surreal; this is the quickest I've ever finished a story that I've been completely happy with. Once again, I'd like to take the opportunity to truly, deeply and sincerely thank every single one of my readers and especially those who took the time to review and let me know what they thought – for those who weren't keeping up with the author alerts, this year has been pretty tough for me, and the overwhelming enthusiasm you guys have given me for this story has just blown me back and put a smile on my face.

Seriously: thank you, so much.

**Note One for This Chapter**: This chapter will be entirely from Quinn's perspective, and I've thoroughly enjoyed writing it. She is one of my favorite female characters on TV right now, and seeing as how the writers of _Glee_ have so thoroughly killed all character development from season one for every single character except for Quinn, it just makes me like her all the more (sorry, fellow gleeks, but I've been _hugely_ underwhelmed by season two thus far). The title/theme of this episode is fitting, and I'd like to take the opportunity to say that I thoroughly disliked the episode "Funk" from season one, but Quinn's rendition of "It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World" was one of my favorite moments from season one, so there it is.

**Note Two for This Chapter**: After how heavy last chapter is, I'm trying my best to inject some humor into this, but all the characters – yes, even Finn – are going through some issues at the moment, so I'm going to resolve that before anything else.

**Note Three for This Chapter:**_** IF YOU HAVEN'T LISTENED TO MARK SALLING'S NEW SOLO ALBUM "PIPE DREAMS", IT IS AMAZING!**_

With all of that out of the way, let's move on to:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

Chapter 14: It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World

_You see, man made the cars to take us over the road  
Man made the trains to carry heavy loads  
Man made electric light to take us out of the dark  
Man made the boat for the water, like Noah made the ark_

_This is a man's, man's, man's world  
But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl_

_You see, man made the cars to take us over the road  
Man made the trains to carry heavy loads  
Man made electric light to take us out of the dark  
Man made the boat for the water, like Noah made the ark_

_This is man's, man's, man's world  
But it wouldn't be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl_

**6:00 a.m.**

Quinn woke up feeling disgusting, though she tried to not hold it against Kurt too much; the poor boy had spent half the night sobbing and blowing snot all over her before they'd fallen asleep curled up together in his bed. Now, there were many things that Quinn loved about Kurt, but one thing she disliked about sleeping with him – which she'd done a few times now since Uncle Burt had taken her in like a papa bear with a stray cub – was that he drooled, which, _ew_. She affectionately stroked his hair back from his face as she strangled his alarm clock into silence. She'd reset it to an ungodly 6:00 a.m. on a Saturday morning for a reason.

"Mrr?" he muttered, blinking his dreamy hazel eyes. Kurt Hummel was practically her twin at this point, but there were many points on him that she hated. One – no matter how much time he spent on his perfectly coiffed appearance, he always looked appallingly cute with his hair sleep-ruffled, just woken up. Two – his bathroom. Three – his palatial queen-sized bed that was one of those memory foam fancy factory ordered numbers that left you feeling like you'd gotten ten hours of sleep even if you'd only gotten three.

"Go back to sleep, baby," she said soothingly. "You need to sleep in."

"Mmm-kay," he whispered, and just like that he rolled over and was back to sleep without so much as a faux-struggle. _Reason number four, the bastard._ Quinn sighed and clambered up from the bed, stumbling toward the bathroom. She sighed in bliss as she stepped into the miniature spa that was Kurt's bathroom.

When Mrs. Hummel had died, Kurt had ended up being treated for depression as a small child. Already bullied, when the woman he was closer to than anyone else had died Kurt hadn't spoken for more than a month – even Quinn remembered that, when they'd all been in elementary school. Kurt had missed school for a couple of weeks, and when he'd come back Burt had tried to buy Kurt's happiness. It hadn't really worked, but one of the things that Kurt had gotten out of it was his downstairs suite/sanctuary that was strictly controlled by Kurt alone. Anyone could spend an hour in Kurt's bathroom and walk out on a cloud.

Quinn stripped down and stepped into the large walk-in shower with pressure jets coming from the walls and ceilings, massaging her into wakefulness as she gleefully abused the large collection of beauty supplies in Kurt's bathroom that contained those "bursting bubbles" things that woke the skin up (and thus Quinn's tired mind). Today was going to be one long day, she was willing to bet, and if she could take this small amount of time for herself she was going to abuse it.

She allowed herself a small amount of narcissism as she finally stepped out and blow-dried her hair. Kurt and Mercedes had splurged when she'd been well enough to come home from the hospital and brought her into this very bathroom to shower her with a wealth of beauty products; among them, the newest stretch-mark-be-gone cream that had worked like a miracle. Quinn paused as she slowly ran her brush through her long blonde hair, fighting back a tear desperately. She had too much to go through today and today wasn't about her personal drama.

Her mom had assured her that her pregnancy hormones had knocked her usual hormones around, and that it was perfectly okay to still be overemotional, but Quinn knew that that wasn't the answer. The truth was, there were still these little…moments, where she'd remember how it _felt_ to hold Beth in her arms, to see her little baby, a _life_ that she had created and carried and nurtured inside of her. She'd remember what it felt like to let her go. She remembered that she would never know what it was like to brush her little dirty blonde hair like this.

Quinn stopped, and took in a deep breath. Today was not for her. Today was for her friends, who deserved this just as much, if not more, than anyone else she knew…even if they were too stupid to realize. She wiped a tear from her eye and took her Cheerios uniform from its hook on the wall, carefully pulling her hair back till her tight ponytail fell in its usual elegance, zipping up her uniform. There was _something_ about the uniform and the small golden pin on the shoulder that proclaimed her captain (well, co-captain now) that conferred a certain amount of wonder to the world: here was the best of the best of the fearsome Sue Sylvester's squad, practically a queen or even a goddess. Quinn applied some dark red lipstick, a bit of mascara and eyeliner, and just a tiny touch of blush, and stepped back to survey the results with grim satisfaction. She was going into battle today and Athena had _nothing_ on her.

Smiling, she laced up her pristine white shoes and stepped out on tiptoe to grab her Prada messenger bag that Kurt had gotten for her, and she shot a quick text message for confirmation to Mike. Receiving a ridiculously complicated smiley-face, Quinn smirked and headed upstairs.

"Good morning, honey," Carole said softly from the coffee machine.

"Morning, Carole," Quinn said. "Everyone still asleep?"

"Oh, you know the men in _this_ house," Carole said, rolling her eyes. "It's Saturday."

"And this is why God made women," Quinn agreed. "What would they do without us?"

"You're not going to tell me what happened last night, are you?" Carole asked rhetorically, handing Quinn one of Kurt's nonfat bagels.

"Don't worry – this time tomorrow it'll all be right as rain," Quinn said, easily stepping in for a brief hug.

"I don't suppose any of them are ever going to catch on quite how twisted around your fingers they are," Carole said, but she was smirking as she put her coffee in a travel mug.

"Or Uncle Burt around _yours_," Quinn said innocently. She and Carole shared a snigger as the other woman finished touching up her makeup before grabbing her bag. "Can I hitch a ride to Starbucks on your way to work?"

"Of course, sweetie – start the car for me, will you? I need to make sure this darn fancy thing Kurt insists on using isn't going to blow the house up," Carole said, tossing Quinn the keys. Quinn smiled and shook her head at Kurt's label-whorishness rearing its head once more as she went out to wait. A few minutes later Carole had dropped her off with a wave and a smile, and Quinn's smirk grew to a genuine smile as she saw Mike waiting for her outside the coffee shop, already holding her favorite brew and a large crème puff to split.

_The moment I wake up  
Before I put on my makeup  
I say a little prayer for you  
While combing my hair, now  
And wondering what dress to wear, now  
I say a little prayer for you _

_Forever, forever, you'll stay in my heart  
And I will love you  
Forever, forever, we never will part  
Oh, how I'll love you  
Together, together, that's how it must be  
To live without you  
Would only be heartbreak for me _

Mike had been an unexpected surge of joy in her life that Kurt, interfering little creature that he was, had somehow managed to hide his hand in until Mike's little display in the coffee shop. Mike was a gentleman who always held the door for her, wasn't ashamed for her to meet his parents, and never once pressured her to do or say anything. He was probably the only one other than Puck that knew how much she was struggling with the idea of Beth, and he'd been the greatest shoulder to cry on other than Kurt and Mercedes.

Quinn figured it also didn't hurt that he had abs of steel and could kiss like nobody's business, but that wasn't here or there at the moment.

"Hey," Mike said, jumping up and grinning as she leaned in for a light peck on the lips. "How did it go last night?"

"As predictably bad as ever," Quinn said, trying not to blush when he blushed as she licked some of the delicious crème out of the sweet before taking a sip of her latte. "Sometimes I don't even know why I bother when they screw themselves up like this."

"But haven't you been telling me for like a month now that the three of them were going to explode?" Mike asked, confused. She shot him a look and he pursed his lips. "This is one of those times when I'm just supposed to nod and smile, isn't it?"

"I knew there was a reason that I kept you around," Quinn said with a magnanimous smile. Mike chuckled and bumped their shoulders together. Quinn nudged back, and for a long moment they were quiet as the sun slowly rose over Lima, bringing the warmth of summer up with it. They headed inside to sit down and finish off their breakfast date.

"Boy, am I glad it's Saturday," Mike said. "I'm heading over to Matt's so we can finish that PowerPoint Mrs. Eric wants for history."

"I'm _so_ glad that I'm in AP classes," Quinn said with a shudder. "That woman has always given me the creeps. And I'd much rather write a paper than make a presentation to give to the rest of the class."

"She isn't _that_ bad," Mike protested. "She just kind of slobbers."

"I was _there_ in the teachers' lounge when she popped out her dentures to reapply the paste," Quinn said firmly. "When I was done vomiting I made sure to avoid her like the plague and thus far it's worked." They clinked cups together and snickered.

"So what's the plan for today?" Mike asked after a moment.

"The battle plan is to start with Rachel, because she's the only one other than _us_ who's most likely awake at this beastly hour; not to mention, she won't take long. Phase two will be Finn, because that's probably going to take most of the morning," Quinn said decisively. "When I'm done with Finn Kurt will be up and done with his bathroom stuff, so I can tackle him, before I move on to Noah – knowing him he'll be at the gym pounding a punching bag by then. Thank god I finished with Santana a few weeks ago, because I'm going to be exhausted by the end of today."

"I thought Puck helped her with that?" Mike said.

"He certainly _thinks_ he did, and without any help, too," Quinn said sweetly.

"You have this entire town in your fist," Mike marveled.

"It's a gift." Quinn smiled mysteriously before she glanced down to check her watch. "It's nearly 7:30; where's—oh." Quinn smirked as she saw that Tina and Artie were too busy gazing at each other soulfully to notice that they were running late.

"Do they have Hallmark moments _every_ time they get out of a car together?" Mike asked, but he was smiling and looking at her in a way that made Quinn's stomach tingle pleasantly. She shrugged and returned the look, and Mike blushed and glanced down at his coffee. _Oh, this one just might be a keeper_, Quinn thought happily, and lightly dragged her finger through the whipped cream at the top of her drink – a luxury and one that she'd pay for later with an extra workout, but she was giving herself a pass on calorie-counting today. This wasn't anything she was planning on saying aloud. She had the uncanny feeling that if she voiced the blasphemy Sue Sylvester would appear like the hounds of hell within an instant to haul her by the ear to the school's weight room.

She and Mike finished up their breakfast and headed outside, exchanging hello's with Artie and Tina who thankfully didn't look any the worse for wear from last night. Usually Mercedes would join the four of them for their little Saturday morning jam sessions but when Quinn had sent out her group text last night changing the time to before eight o'clock, Mercedes had sent them all a novel-length text on the importance of beauty sleep that Quinn was sure she'd copied from Kurt (thankfully none of them paid for incoming texts; ever since Mercedes had upgraded to a full keyboard phone she was death to text bills). Quinn smiled to herself as they followed Artie's wheelchair with Mr. Abrams waving cheerfully after them. Artie had told them all rather bluntly that his parents were overjoyed that he actually had managed to make friends at school after spending years just known as 'That Wheelchair Guy'.

Mercedes had called her as soon as they were done texting and spent twenty minutes harassing Quinn to make sure that she didn't need backup to deal with Kurt, and Quinn had reassured her that once she was done screwing Kurt's head back on straight she'd send him straight to the chocolate diva. One thing that Quinn had accepted early on was that no matter how Kurt had officially adopted her as a member of his family that he and Mercedes were best friends, period, and there was no use trying to come in between them, something Quinn didn't think was going to be a problem. Mercedes had signed off the phone after letting Quinn know that she still thought she was a crazy white bitch even though they were kind of sisters. Quinn giggled to herself thinking about it, and Mike smiled blissfully and caught her hand in his.

The four headed to the nearby park, to their favorite gazebo, as Artie pulled out his guitar. "Quinn, you want to start us off?" he offered.

"What should I do?" Quinn asked, leaning back and letting the sun hit her face through the wooden roof slats.

"Something happy," Tina said. "It's been a little gloomy lately."

"I thought you _liked_ it gloomy," Mike pointed out, smirking.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not _actually_ a vampire," Tina complained.

"That doesn't explain the biting fetish," Mike said innocently, gesturing to Artie's fresh new hickie inexpertly covered with makeup. Tina flushed and Artie stammered while Mike laughed at them meanly. Quinn smiled as she thought up a light song and piped out,

_Boy, we've had a real good time  
And I wish you the best on your way  
Eh, eh  
I didn't mean to hurt you  
I never thought we'd fall out of place  
Eh, eh, hey eh_

_I have something that I love long-long  
But my friends keep telling me that something's wrong  
Then I met someone_

_And babe, there's nothing else I can say_

After a moment, Artie picked up the easy melody on his guitar as Mike bopped his head along, smiling at her bashfully. Tina rolled her eyes good-naturedly and joined in the chorus, a little jarring at first but then melding with Quinn's voice easily enough.

_Eh eh, eh eh  
There's nothing else I can say  
Eh eh, eh eh  
I wish you'd never looked at me that way  
Eh eh, eh eh  
There's nothing else I can say  
Eh eh, eh eh_

When Mike jumped up to dance, a passing jogger stared at them all askance, and Quinn just smiled as the sunlight began to brighten the world, glistening off the dew.

**Phase One: Rachel**

**8:00 a.m.**

Mike had a little moped that was actually quite fun to use, and Quinn was abusing it for the day. She pulled over to the side of Rachel Berry's large house in the more affluent part of town. Both of Rachel's dads were lawyers, and Quinn smiled slightly when she realized that they'd both already gone to work. They were nice enough guys, but they'd struck her as nearly as manic as Rachel, and Quinn deeply suspected an addiction to energy drinks. Dealing with an emotional Rachel Berry was going to be hard enough this early in the morning; having to face down all three members of the family unit would be next to impossible, and Quinn was nowhere near ready to admit defeat on this issue.

_Success or death_, she thought grimly, remembering the last time a newbie Cheerio had protested Sue Sylvester's treatment of them. Sue had politely put the bullhorn down before screaming one of her favorite catchphrases in the girl's face. To Quinn's memory, after she'd been forced to do so many windsprints that she'd fainted, the girl's parents had tried to sue the school. The parents and the lawyer had spent all of ten minutes alone in a room with one Sue Sylvester before the girl transferred schools and wasn't heard from again.

Quinn knocked on the door, but there wasn't an answer. Hearing the strains of Sarah Brightman loudly enough on the street that she was starting to get an idea of exactly why the neighbors complained so often about noise levels from this house, Quinn tried the front door, blessing small-town mannerisms when it was unlocked and she blithely strolled right in.

_When I'm alone I dream of the horizon and words fail me.  
There is no light in a room where there is no sun  
and there is no sun if you're not here with me, with me.  
From every window unfurls my heart the heart that you have won.  
Into me you've poured the light,  
the light that you found by the side of the road_

Quinn smiled; it was one of her favorites. Aside from being a Madonna fag (one of the words Quinn tried not to use as much since Kurt had politely explained to her the original meaning of the term and why it bothered him so much; however, he'd also explained that all of Madonna's gay fans referred to themselves as such) Kurt Hummel worshipped at the altar of Sarah Brightman, and Quinn had had to admit she was starting to gain an appreciation for her. This was actually one of her favorite songs by the woman, under normal circumstances, but if Rachel was going to try to be overdramatic today Quinn would be forced to cut through the bullshit fast.

She followed the impassioned sound of Rachel's rather amazing voice joining with the stereo till she hit the girl's room, and opened the door. Rachel was staring deeply into the mirror, using a prop microphone and looking like she was trying hard not to cry.

_Time to say goodbye  
Places that I've never seen or experienced with you  
Now I shall, I'll sail with you upon ships across the seas,  
Seas that exist no more,  
It's time to say goodbye_

Quinn firmly shut the door behind her and switched Rachel's impressive stereo system off, not even bothering to try to hide her amusement as Rachel's eyes went comically wide and her arms windmilled wildly while she flailed, screeching. "_Quinn_, _what_ if you had scared me so much that scream damaged my vocal chords?" she finally shrieked, scandalized, and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Rachel, dear, if you can be singing along competently with Sarah Brightman this early in the morning, I don't think your voice is in much trouble," Quinn pointed out dryly. Rachel considered this for a moment before nodding.

"It still begs the question of why you've broken into my house," she said after a moment, her sheer determination to have the last word forcing her to speak.

"I didn't break in; the door is unlocked," Quinn said calmly. "Now, sit down on that pink monstrosity you call a bedspread. I know that Kurt's spoken to you about this before, but your décor really is horrible. The sheer amount of pinks that you use, you'd think a bottle of Pepto Bismol exploded on contact with the door." Rachel's mouth worked, but no sound came out for a few moments before her butt made contact with her bed. Quinn nodded in satisfaction as she dragged Rachel's hard white wooden chair out from her small desk, positioning it directly in front of the other girl. She sat down primly, her legs crossed in ladylike fashion, and she took a moment to smooth the pleats of her skirt before facing Rachel and making direct eye contact.

For a brief moment, Quinn was still as they regarded each other – Rachel's lips trembling, but then, Rachel had always been that way around her whether the diva wanted to admit the nervous reaction or not. It was one of the reasons that Quinn had used to pick on her so mercilessly back when she'd been…different.

There was a swirling mass of confused feelings in the back of Quinn's heart when it came to Rachel Berry, and it was taking her longer than she'd like to face and confront them. For a very long time she had honestly despised the girl – she was everything that Quinn couldn't be because she was at the bottom of the social heap: honest, a little brave, able to go through her day without editing everything she said in case it affected her popularity. No matter how abrasive and horrible Rachel's personality could often be, she was so true to herself that it was hard to be in the same room as her at times without feeling completely horrible about oneself (and without wanting to punch that obnoxiously Barbra-Streisand-like nose right off her face).

And no matter how much this last year's explosion that had nearly destroyed her was completely of Quinn's own making, there was nothing she wanted more some days than to blame it entirely on Rachel. But it hadn't been Rachel's fault, and despite the fact that the girl had acted entirely selfishly in her single-minded pursuit of Finn, the fact that she'd swallowed her (self-admittedly _humongous_) pride enough to seek Quinn out in the bathroom and apologize for her actions had gone a long way toward fanning the grudging flame of respect in Quinn for the other girl.

But that didn't necessarily mean that they liked each other – in fact, some of the girl's actions and words toward the glee club at large and in particular Kurt, Mercedes and Quinn herself had Quinn feeling nothing but outright loathing for the girl. However, Quinn's complicated feelings regarding Finn and her other boys, not to mention her growing attachment to glee club, meant that Rachel was going to be a part of her life moving forward, and it was time to put her foot down.

"So, Rachel," Quinn started. She paused. Rachel dealt best with direct and as unsubtle as possible, but Quinn would also have to make sure that she left no room for argument. "I'm sure that you're wondering why I'm here."

"Not at all," Rachel said, recovering herself. "I'm sure that Finn sent you to patch things over, or maybe Kurt sent you to tell me that I'm a horrible person and that what happened with Finn is all my fault."

"Actually," Quinn said flatly, "I came on my own to patch things over with you and Finn, _and_ to tell you that you acted like a terrible person last night and that what happened last night in particular _was_ mostly your fault." Rachel blinked her large eyes, and Quinn quickly soldiered on before Rachel ducked out of the oncoming confrontation by faking tears. "Stop crying. Right now," Quinn snapped out, and Rachel sort of jerked back. Quinn sighed and retracted her claws…slightly. "Rachel, you and I have been spending much more time together lately – you and Kurt have become better friends, you and Finn have gotten closer in a good way, and I consider myself a better singer and performer thanks to some of your work and your…_advice_ during our glee club sessions. Lately, you've been acting much more human than you used to, and frankly I'm a little disappointed that you've sort of regressed back to the raging bitch you used to be when I first met you. Granted, I was known as the Frigid Ice Queen Bitch of our school back then, but I think that I can say we've both changed since then."

Rachel, thankfully, began to nod, and Quinn continued. "Finn told me what you said in the bathroom, and you and I both know that you're wrong. I know that Finn's going through something, and you're so used to dealing with your own issues that the idea of Finn needing you to help him through this is scary. But that's your problem, Rachel – you've been expecting Finn to be there for your hard times but you need to be there through his."

"That's very unfair," Rachel said, her eyes welling up. She turned her head to look away from Quinn's gaze, and Quinn sighed, sitting back and letting Rachel continue. "Finn has been completely distracted from our relationship, and whatever my faults in this issue he's been forcing me to handle nothing but his feelings for Kurt when I need some attention for myself! And he _chose_ to kiss Kurt after regionals; I had nothing to do with that and I chose to forgive him for it anyway!"

"Yes, but Rachel, Finn is a heterosexual man," Quinn said gently. "You and I both know that when it comes to dealing with feelings in a healthy way they're all pretty much retards, and Finn is about ten times worse. Part of that is _my_ fault; after the way I treated him, he has a hard time letting anyone in. But we both know that I lost Finn to you a long time ago, and when you walk into a room or start to sing you're all he sees. Hitting one rocky patch is no reason to just give up."

"I didn't mean to steal him from you," Rachel said after a moment. She still wouldn't meet Quinn's eyes, and Quinn snorted inelegantly.

"Yes you did, Rachel, and you had your reasons for doing what you did just like I had mine. And now I'm telling you that you make Finn happy, and that's something that we both want."

"I just like him _so_ much," Rachel burst out, hopping to her feet and twirling dramatically. "I don't want to give him my heart only to expect him to stomp on it again. And now that Kurt and I are becoming friends, I don't want to hurt Kurt worse than I'm sure I already have, but…"

"Things were much less complicated when you didn't have friends, weren't they?" Quinn asked bluntly. Rachel sighed and nodded. "Trust me – I was the Queen of this school. I know exactly what it's like to be surrounded by people and be completely alone, only caring about your own goals. But now that we've got glee, we've got people we care about, and more importantly, people who care about _us_. It's worth it to try, Rachel, _trust_ me."

"Do you think that Finn would forgive me?" Rachel asked, sounding small.

"Do you think that _you_ can forgive yourself?" Quinn asked gently. She stood up from her chair and gave Rachel a smile as she watched the girl sink down on her bed, staring up at the ceiling as if asking God for answers. "Think about it," Quinn said softly, before she let herself out of the room. After a long moment, the music started playing again, though softer than before.

_When you're far away I dream of the horizon and words fail me  
And of course I know that you're with me, with me  
You, my moon, you are with me  
My sun, you're here with me with me, with me, with me_

_Time to say goodbye  
Places that I've never seen or experienced with you  
Now I shall, I'll sail with you upon ships across the seas,  
Seas that exist no more_

Quinn smiled and checked off phase one from her mental checklist, flouncing down the stairs and letting herself out of the house. The sun was fully up by now and she checked her watch, making sure that she was on time as she hopped back on Mike's scooter and headed off toward the Hummel house.

**Phase Two: Finn**

**9:00 a.m.**

_Set me free why don't cha babe  
Get out of my life why don't cha babe  
You don't really need me  
But you keep me hangin'on_

_Why do you keep a comin' around  
Playing with my heart  
Why don't cha get out of my life  
And let me make a brand new start  
Let me get over you  
The way you've gotten over me yeah_

For a moment, however briefly, Quinn paused when she opened Finn's door. The office that was serving as his bedroom looked like a disaster zone, with clothes and junk all over the floor. In a weird way, Finn was just like Kurt in that he felt better when his room was cleaner. The tangled snarls of crap all over the floor gave Quinn pause.

On the futon that was serving as his bed until Burt had time to add a bedroom, Finn was stretched out, frowning in his sleep. The problem with Finn was always that he was such an open book, emotionally speaking; everything he felt, everything he did, was written all over his face and over his eyes, which made it ridiculously easy to wound him. She'd done it herself, so many times, when she'd been pregnant. Part of this entire mess, she couldn't help but feel, was her own fault for screwing Finn up so badly when they'd been dating.

Finn Hudson had been a convenience for her: a genuinely nice guy who was high enough on the social heap to be a suitable boyfriend. Kissing him was nice enough, but there had never been any real passion on her part for their time together – especially not when her relationship with Finn had introduced her to Noah Puckerman. If there was any one regret that Quinn prayed to God every day to forgive, it was how she'd hurt Finn to get, even for one moment, what she really wanted – the freedom that Puck's "badass" persona gave her to be herself and make her own choices. If she'd just stood up for herself to her parents for once and dumped Finn before going for Puck, all of their lives would be so different right now…

Closing her eyes firmly, Quinn waited until the moisture receded, before she looked up, sucking in a breath and calming herself down. Like she'd thought before, this day was not for her, it was for her friends. God only helped those who helped themselves, and if she really wanted to make amends to Finn she was going to make damn sure that he and Rachel would be dancing down the aisle while an obnoxious opera soundtrack wailed in the background so they could have annoyingly musical children with large noses and freakish heights.

Smirking to herself, Quinn stepped forward and poked Finn firmly in the ribcage. "_Up_!" she cried, and watched with some amusement as he flipped over, screeched, and fell off the futon with a loud thump, staring at her in dazed horror as she stood over him. "Get up, sweetie. We're going to IHOP; I want breakfast."

"_Huh_?" Finn asked after a moment, blinking.

"I said, get up. I'm starting the shower for you and you need to be quick; they're serving free pancake refills until noon on weekends this month and the line will be long," Quinn said patiently. When he continued to stare at her, she pointed a finger at him threateningly. "I'm not above poking you in there," she said, waggling a finger menacingly, and Finn jerked back.

"Okay, jeeze! We aren't even dating!" he protested. Quinn just smirked and went downstairs to wait. Thankfully, Finn was a teenage boy and was generally okay in the shower if he just threw some shampoo on and threw soap over the smelly bits, so she wasn't waiting for long. When his huge legs came stumbling down the stairs, she stepped up from the couch and frowned at him.

"Be quiet; Kurt still hasn't woken up," she instructed reprovingly. "Get your keys."

In retrospect, she thought as she rode in the passenger seat of the old SUV that Burt and Carole allowed Finn to drive, it was probably a bad thing that Finn still snapped-to at every order that she gave him. But then, it was Finn's own confused feelings that she was addressing today, and sooner rather than later. They didn't talk much as the air blowing from the windows woke Finn up. She snuck a look at him and was surprised to find him looking at her with the most painful expression on his face.

He turned away first and snapped on the radio, and Quinn winced as Amy Lee's duet with Seether switched on. _Talk about bad timing_…

_The worst is over now  
And we can breathe again  
I wanna hold you high and steal my pain away  
There's so much left to learn  
And no one left to fight  
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain_

Finn's hands tightened on the steering wheel.

_'Cause I'm broken when I'm open  
And I don't feel like I am strong enough  
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome  
And I don't feel right when you're gone away_

Quinn moved forward and switched the radio into silence, and they sat in a tortured sort of quiet until Finn pulled into the IHOP parking lot, which was thankfully not even half full so early on a Saturday. She was the first to step out, and Finn shuffled awkwardly behind her as she requested a private booth, away from people. The waitress took them to one of the window seats, away from the two or three families where it was quiet enough for them to talk. Finn was still silently staring at her in his fixed way, the way that Quinn hated because whenever Finn stared at her like that she always felt like a pinned butterfly on a collector's wall.

Quinn looked down, her fists clenched under the table, and she ordered an ice water and a stack of buttermilk pancakes while Finn stuck with chocolate milk and an enormous breakfast sampler platter. When the waitress gave them their drinks and left again, Quinn dared to look up while Finn petulantly blew bubbles in his milk.

It was such an endearingly stupid thing to do that she had to sigh, pained, and glance out the window.

"Why did you cheat on me?" Finn asked quietly, and the question took her so far off-guard that for a long moment she just stared at him. But he kept _looking_ at her, with those damn eyes, and she closed her eyes long enough to get control of herself.

"Finn, what did you used to feel about me?" she asked instead of answering him. He gave her a confused look, and Quinn sighed. "Exactly. That was how I felt about you. I liked you, but I wasn't in love with you, and you weren't in love with me. That's why I hated Rachel so much, when you first started in glee – because you never looked at me the same way that you look at her whenever the two of you are singing together. And I've spent my entire _life_ having people look at me like that, but even my own boyfriend didn't…know me, the real me, enough. I spent every minute of my life doing what was expected of me, and Puck…"

She trailed off, and finally looked up, meeting his eyes head-on, and for once Finn looked down, but not before she saw his eyes welling up, and a lancet of pain shot through her heart. "I was never in love with Puck, Finn, I need you to know that. It wasn't him as a person, it was him as a…symbol. Puck has always been this figure of freedom, you know? The badass, the dangerous one who does what he wants when he wants. And I'd fantasize about being with him instead of you because what I really wanted was the freedom to _choose_. So when the opportunity was there, I took it, and I paid for it in the worst possible way that you can imagine. That's why I cheated on you. It doesn't make what I did right, but you need to know that it really wasn't you – you need to know that I'm happy that you and Rachel have each other now that I'm not around to make your life miserable."

"You didn't make me miserable," Finn mumbled. He finally looked up, the pain in his dopey eyes making her feel like she'd stomped on a puppy; it was the most curious pain, the same pain, in fact, that had shot through her when Finn had stormed into glee that fateful afternoon and started pounding on Puck's face. Having to face him, having to say _Puck is the father_ in front of the entire club, had been the single most miserable experience of her life, except for maybe the night that her father had sent her away.

"Finn, I—"

"You took Baby Drizzle away from me," Finn whispered, looking away from her. "Why would you do that?"

"I lost her too, Finn. And there's a part of me that spends a little bit of every day wondering what it'd be like if I'd kept her, if I'd gotten to raise my _daughter_. But she's gone, and I can't punish myself for that, and you shouldn't either. Beth is in a good home, with a good mom who's got money and stability and everything that you and I would never have been able to give her. And it isn't fair to take this out on other people, except for maybe me." Quinn buried her face in her napkin, trying to get the tears away before they ruined her makeup.

Finn touched her hand, his fingers trembling, and his hands were so warm and comforting that it just made Quinn feel worse. "I'm sorry that I made you cry," Finn said miserably. "That's all I'm good for lately, is making people I like cry. I shouldn't have tried to kiss you last night."

"No, you shouldn't have," Quinn agreed. "But I shouldn't have cheated on you either."

"Guess we both suck, then," Finn said. Quinn snorted inelegantly and they both looked away from each other as they discreetly tried to dry their eyes, until the waitress uncomfortably cleared her throat and put their food down before hurrying away to get them drink refills.

For a few minutes they both resolutely chewed through their food, avoiding looking at each other. Quinn tried to enjoy the warm, buttery goodness that she would have to pay for later, but the unexpected conversation had her on edge. Had Finn understood what she had been trying to express, or had Quinn somehow managed to screw the both of them up even further when all she'd been trying to do was help?

Once she'd finished eating, Quinn politely cleared up the space where she was sitting and piled her dishes for the waitress, taking a long drink of cold water to clear her head. She looked up to find Finn stealing glances at her between bites off his plate, and she smiled sadly. This was going to be harder than she'd thought, but it was worth it – if she could get through to him, it would all be worth it. Bearing that in mind, Quinn put her hands on the table and said, "Finn, I'm here to talk to you about Kurt – and yes, before you ask, I know exactly what happened and exactly what Rachel said to you in the bathroom, so just let me talk and then you can tell me if I'm right or wrong or if you just want me to go to hell and leave you alone."

Finn nodded slowly and took a large bite of hash. Quinn's lips quirked, but she took another sip of her drink and looked him straight in the eye. "So, let's get this out of the way, then: you're not gay, Finn, and you're not in love with Kurt, so you can stop freaking out about what Rachel said. And close your mouth; there's food in it." He shut his amazedly open mouth with a snap, and Quinn sighed and leaned over the table to take his hand. "I know that you've been confused, Finn, and you've been angry and hurt and that's just making you feel like you don't know what's going on. But that's _okay_. It's okay for you to be pissed off about all of this." She waited until he nodded slowly to continue.

"Finn, the reason you've been so out of it lately is because you're confused – you _love_ Kurt, but you're not _in love_ with Kurt, and it's important for you to know the difference. When you think about Kurt, what do you think of him?"

Finn swallowed and furrowed his brow. "He's…pretty cool. He says things that are confusing sometimes but he doesn't think I'm stupid and he'll explain them to me – you know he's teaching me how to fix my truck up in Burt's garage? And he can be _really_ annoying sometimes, too; like when I just try to help with his clothes and he gets all _bitchy_ and _mean_—" Quinn tried really hard not to laugh, but she couldn't fully suppress the giggle that escaped, and Finn shared a smile with her. "I like how he doesn't let anyone get to him. I always let people get to me. He'll try some of my movies if I try some of his, and he cooks real good so mom doesn't have to stay on her feet so much."

"Does that sound like you have a crush on him, then?" Quinn asked leadingly.

"Not really, no," Finn said after a moment.

"You think of Kurt like he's your little brother, but Kurt was in love with you for a really long time, Finn, and you _knew_ that. He used to light up like the sun whenever you walked into the room. I know that feeling, Finn – it's a powerful thing and it makes you feel good about yourself. And that's why you never really said anything to him about it, because you liked that he liked you that much even if you didn't feel that way about him." Quinn paused, to see how Finn was taking this. He had that half-constipated look on his face like when he was puzzling through math, and Quinn took that as a sign that he was actually listening to what she was saying.

"So, when you put your foot in it and blew up at him in his basement, suddenly Kurt had to start thinking about you like you were a real person instead of this…idea of you that he had in his head. And you wanted him to hero-worship you again, and you wanted to make him feel better, so you kissed him and it was probably the worst thing that you could've done, but you know what? It's done, and you've had a while to try to make it up to him but you haven't really done that great a job because of Puck."

"It isn't just what happened with you!" Finn burst out quickly, his eyes lighting up, trying to make her understand. "It's what happens with _everyone_ that Puck is around! He just uses people to get what he wants and then he throws them away – even _me_. And we all saw what happened that day in glee club, Quinn; once he and Kurt do…_you know_," Finn said, screwing up his face, "and Kurt stops being all new and interesting Puck's just gonna throw him away and move on to the next cougar or whatever, and then Kurt's going to be even more screwed up than he is now and I don't want Kurt to get hurt like that!"

"They haven't slept together, Finn," Quinn said gently. Finn's mouth worked slightly, and she took his hand in hers again. "How long have the both of us known Noah Puckerman? Have you _ever_ seen him date anyone this long without having sex? He cares about Kurt, Finn, he really, really does, and that's why he's been acting so weird lately because the last people he cared about his much were me, you and _Beth_, so maybe you can understand why he's just as scared about all of this as _you_ are."

"He has a funny way of showing it," Finn said darkly.

"Finn, he misses you more than he'll ever say. Ever since his dad walked out Puck's been pushing people away from him because he's terrified that they'll leave him. Why do you think he never hit you back the day that you found out about…the baby? Because he felt like he deserved it for hurting you, and that's why he hasn't been pushing you and him to get back together like you used to be because he has this idiotic man-code of honor or whatever and now here we all are."

"None of that makes what he did okay," Finn said stubbornly, and Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Of _course_ it doesn't make what he did okay, Finn, but he's never asked you to forgive him for what he did. He's asking you to watch what he's doing _now_ so that you can know that he isn't going to screw things up so bad again. But what you really need to understand is that no matter how much you want to protect Kurt, he's going to need to get hurt to live his life."

"But I _do_ need to protect Kurt," Finn insisted. "He's even more screwed up than Puck is, you know? But he won't ever tell anyone what's wrong or that anything's wrong until he _explodes_ like he did, and then he won't let anyone in because he's scared or hurt, and I don't know how to get him to let me in…"

"And you don't understand how he let Puck in to begin with," Quinn finished for him. Finn was squeezing her hand tightly, his voice raw, and she put her other hand on top of his like she was cradling him. "But, Finn, that has to be Kurt's choice. If I told you, right here and right now, that I cared about you like you were my little brother and that I think Rachel's bad for you and that you should never talk to her again, what would you do?"

"I'd tell you to go to hell and mind your own business," Finn said with a weak chuckle.

"Exactly," Quinn said, patting his hand before withdrawing hers. The waitress came bustling by to grab their mess and hurry away before the emotional teens could ruin her day. "We'll have to tip that one," Quinn noted, and Finn laughed, a nice, strong laugh that had Quinn smiling. She took his hand again. "And for the record, Finn, I _do_ care about you, and I want you to know that I'm happy for you and Rachel. That girl has more problems than a math book, and she just wants some attention for herself instead of you talking about Kurt all the time. But I talked to her today and I think I made her see that she needed to let you talk about _you_ sometimes too. The two of you are going to be on your own from here on out, alright?"

"You know, you're like the weirdest, bitchiest, _coolest_ sister ever," Finn said fervently.

"Just don't ever try to kiss me again, alright? Because it'd be gross now that we're family," Quinn said firmly, and they shared a loud laugh as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

**Phase Three: Kurt**

**11:30 a.m.**

_Left here alone  
And unsure of what I feel  
Unclear but I see  
Just what I'm afraid of  
I can't find my way anymore  
And I  
Cannot heal the wounds I've created  
And I can't let go  
Of what's killing me_

When Quinn and Finn got back to the house, she heard the powerful, primally sad singing emanating from downstairs to know that she'd timed it right and Kurt was definitely awake. "Are you going to talk to him too?" Finn asked, peering at her.

"Yeah – but first I'm sending _you_ over to Rachel's so the two of you can actually _talk_ or maybe, god forbid, you can sing a ridiculously sappy love ballad and forgive each other again," Quinn said, smiling at him sweetly.

"We don't sing _that_ many ballads—" Finn began. Quinn turned the full force of her deadly _Bitch, __please_ glare on him and he sighed. "Okay, I get your point."

"Go get dressed," she ordered him, but she leaned up and kissed his cheek before she turned to head toward the basement as she heard Finn's feet pounding up the stairs. "Like a puppy, I swear," she muttered, rolling her eyes as she opened the basement door, shut it firmly behind her, and headed down the stairs.

_Falling from this edge  
I am lost to all I know_

She found Kurt sitting at his desk, his ridiculously expensive headphones on; when the house was empty Kurt tended to forget the noise levels. She recognized the moody piano rock music she heard pouring from the headphones and she paused to listen to the beautiful melody. Kurt's voice was a revelation – able to go from the lows to the highs, mixing opera with a hard rock edge when he really wanted to. For all that Rachel Berry was obviously going to go to Broadway and succeed, there was just something in the way that Kurt sang when he really _meant_ it that took Quinn's breath away. Quinn sighed as she noticed that the DVD of the glee club's competition, in particular his and Puck's performance, was paused on the television.

_I can't breathe anymore  
Somehow I'm locked inside this cage  
And I try  
But I cannot fight to stay alive_

Kurt closed his eyes and breathed in before pitching his voice as high as she'd heard him hit in his eerie performance of "Harem" during the rally. She hoped that Kurt hadn't seen the plans that Sue was building to put him at the top of a ridiculously complicated pyramid at the dramatic ending of the song and force him to hold the note even longer. She was already plotting Quinn's solo to last longer and to throw in Santana's surprisingly gorgeous singing voice as a surprise guest at the end.

_Falling from this edge  
I am lost to all I know  
Time is only the answer see and  
Lies, the only  
Reverie_

Enough being enough as far as moody opera went, Quinn leaned over Kurt's shoulder, ignoring his shocked spasm, and clicked the STOP button on his iTunes library. "You wouldn't be half as shocked if you didn't use those headphones to block out the rest of the world while you were singing," she informed him blithely when he threw her a glare. Quinn squeezed his shoulder as she gestured toward the television. "You know, you two were absolutely spectacular; I voted for you," she said carefully.

"Yeah, we were, weren't we?" Kurt asked, sighing as he reached for the remote on his desk and switched the set off.

"God, you're an idiot," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. Kurt jerked back and stared at her with shock. "Don't give me that look, Kurt! You know as well as I do that all you're doing right now is giving yourself a million and one reasons to not forgive Puck without even talking to him, and I've watched both of you go through too much to let you sabotage it all at the end because you're scared!"

"He _lied_ to me, Quinn; he _manipulated_ me and then he used me as an excuse to beat someone up that he was already mad at," Kurt snapped, color rising. "You should know better than anyone how that feels."

"That was really low, Kurt, even for _you_," Quinn said after a moment, and Kurt turned away from her, clenching his fists. "And besides, how do you know for one minute _why_ Puck did what he did? Did you even bother to _ask_ him, or did you just take everyone else's word for it? He's fought for you, Kurt, and I think that the least that you could owe him is to hear him out."

"You say that like it's the easiest thing," Kurt said after a moment. "But you just don't know…"

"I don't know what?" Quinn asked, crossing her arms.

"_You don't know what it's like to be me_!" Kurt hollered, finally spinning around. "I like him _so much_, and how _sick_ does that make me? This is the guy that used to throw me in the _dumpster_ every morning, who got people started throwing me into lockers and slushies on my clothes! He's been _fighting_ for me? I have to fight every single day just to make myself go into that school knowing what's waiting for me! And now here I am, torn up over _Noah Puckerman_, for Gaga's sake, just like all those other _girls_, and I don't know what to do anymore!"

Quinn sighed and moved forward, draping her arm around him and letting him collapse next to her side as he started crying. "I can't _do_ this; I have to be strong or they get in," he whispered.

"No one can be strong all the time, Kurt, not you, and certainly not Noah. And that's all he's asking you for – to let him be strong for you sometimes so that you can be strong for him. I've never met a pair of idiots so well-matched as you two: you both have matching mental problems and you both need each other to the point that you can't even see what's right in front of your face," Quinn said, stroking through his hair.

"What if I can't? What if I let him in and he just hurts me? I don't know if I can do it, Quinn," Kurt whispered brokenly.

"He's thinking the exact same thing, Kurt, and you know it," Quinn said flatly, keeping the hug going so he couldn't wriggle away. "You two are both so scared of letting people in. But you let _me_ in, and look how well that's turned out."

"You don't have a penis," Kurt said after a moment.

"Oh my God, you really just said that." Quinn banged the back of her head against the wall.

"Do you think he really is…scared? I don't think I can picture Puck scared of anything," Kurt commented after she paused in her attempt to beat it out of herself. She turned and shot him a scornful look.

"You weren't in the delivery room when I started bleeding after I had Beth," she said bluntly. "Or when Shelby came to us at the viewing window and offered to take her. Puck gets scared more than anyone I know, but he's even worse than _you_ are about reaching out to people and asking for help when he needs it, and believe you me, I never thought I'd meet _anyone_ worse about that than _you_."

"I'm not some delicate flower, Quinn," Kurt protested irritably, glaring at her balefully.

"Keep telling yourself that, Faggetty Anne," she said, patting his hand consolingly.

"Does that make you Andy?" Kurt snorted.

"I happen to be a natural blonde," Quinn said sweetly.

"I don't ever want to know," Kurt said fervently. Then he banged _his_ head against the wall. Quinn cocked her eyebrow. "I really am an idiot; I didn't even give him a chance to explain himself. It's just, what happened between me and Finn was so _private_, and so _personal_, this _hell_ that I've been fighting so hard to get through, and then along comes Puck, who just knocks down all these walls I thought were so secure, and then I got so scared…I don't want to lose the feeling that I get when I'm with him, but I'm more afraid of _him_ leaving than I am of anything else…" Kurt trailed off, then he snorted and inspected his nails. "Things were so much simpler when I was just insulting people with Mercedes. I thought I hated being a loser, but you know what? Having to care about this many people is just atrocious for my stress levels. I'm going to start getting _pimples_ soon, Quinn. _Pimples_."

"That was so selfish I think I might just slap you and call you Rachel Berry," Quinn noted.

"The day that I crossdress as _that_ creature, you have my every permission to perform an immediate mercy killing. And I don't want to be mortally wounded, I want to be _dead_. That way if anyone manages to snap a picture of me in a filthy Argyle sweater and a miniskirt with thigh high _stockings_, I won't have to confront the fact that not even _I_ can make the Slutty School Marm look hot," Kurt decreed.

They both shared a look and burst into wicked cackles.

"Is that Puck's guitar over there?" Quinn asked, once she'd calmed down slightly, pointing in surprise. Puck _never_ forgot his guitar or trusted anyone with it.

"Yeah – he's been teaching me how to play," Kurt said shyly. "I was going to get dad to drop it off at Puck's house this weekend because I know how bad he gets when he doesn't know where it is…stop giving me that look, you skank, I know I've got it bad," he said bitchily when he caught her smirking.

"I didn't know that you could play guitar, too," Quinn elected to say next. "I'm impressed."

"Yes, I'll play you something," Kurt said waspishly. "Don't give me that look. I live in your head just as much as you live in mine."

"And creepiness abounds," Quinn said, smiling as Kurt carefully took the guitar out of its case and ran his fingers over the strings.

"I wouldn't have it any other way between you and I. Otherwise this relationship might become incestuous and wrong," Kurt said. Quinn stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled as he started to strum an easy, haunting melody, unsure at first but then gaining in power as he started to sing.

_Have you ever felt like you're starting to slide_

_down the side of a hill at the bottom where you will lose your mind?_

_So many contributing factors to hide_

_never will find what's hidden inside_

_all your friends surround you _

_they're made out of air_

_they act like they do _

_but they don't really care_

_that just leaves the sickness_

_the music in me_

_take my medicine and then you'll see_

Quinn smiled and joined in on the chorus, Kurt's higher notes challenging her to take the lower. Kurt smiled at her when he realized that she knew the song.

_**The sun go down **_

_**and so are we**_

_**I'm screaming at you **_

_**but you don't hear me**_

_**am I alone or am I crazy**_

_**the ghost will come around for you inevitably**_

Kurt started playing the chords faster as Quinn took over for the next verse, drawing up to a tighter tension.

_Have you ever encountered a skeleton_

_just a pile of bones I remove from my phone _

_so how've you been_

_let me sing the song that reminds me again_

_of the black in your soul_

_it's natural_

_I could take these problems _

_and blame them on you_

_I know what you did_

_and you know what I do_

_that just leaves a guitar, a pipe and a crow_

_you're my melody_

_and then you'll know_

Kurt lost the chords toward the end, so he sort of strummed along an ending, and Quinn applauded politely. Kurt took a mock bow and she laughed at him. "I wouldn't think you'd recognize a song like that," Quinn said. "Isn't that more…_Puck's_ speed?"

"Piss off," Kurt suggested. "We were working on it together last week, before…well, you know." Quinn smiled at him as he smiled at the floor. Oh, yes, her work was definitely done here. Then Kurt looked up, frowning slightly. "Isn't it so _freaky_ how Puck and Mark Salling look so much alike?"

"You noticed that too!" Quinn exclaimed. "Sort of like when you showed me the album art for that Broadway play _Spring Awakening_ and Lea Michele—"

"—_looks exactly like Rachel Berry_!" Kurt exclaimed. "And Jonathan Groff is like a carbon copy of Jesse St. James, which is creepy on so many different levels!"

"Do you ever get the feeling that we're all just characters in an increasingly crazy story?" Quinn asked after a moment.

"I'm not up for a metaphysics discussion today. I have to figure out how to apologize to Noah," Kurt said after a moment, nodding decisively.

"You may just want to head over to Mercedes' for that," Quinn suggested. "And it's _Noah_ again, hmm?"

"Yeah, yeah, mission accomplished, thank you very much, _shut up_," Kurt said. Quinn smirked at him and kissed him on the forehead, ignoring his splutter as she sashayed all the way up the stairs. She had one last big ol' fish to fry before her work was done today and the world was back firmly in her delicate, girlish fist.

**Phase Four: Puck**

**2:00 p.m.**

_Papa I know you're going to be upset  
'Cause I was always your little girl  
But you should know by now  
I'm not a baby_

_You always taught me right from wrong  
I need your help, daddy please be strong  
I may be young at heart  
But I know what I'm saying_

_The one you warned me all about  
The one you said I could do without  
We're in an awful mess, and I don't mean maybe – please_

_Papa don't preach, I'm in trouble deep  
Papa don't preach, I've been losing sleep  
But I made up my mind, I'm keeping my baby, oh  
I'm gonna keep my baby, mmm_

After pausing at Subway for lunch (if Quinn was going to have to pay for today already, she was going to enjoy herself all the way to the gym, damn it), Quinn drove past the Puckerman house to make sure that Puck wasn't there. She headed up the steps and knocked on the door, thanking her lucky stars that Mrs. Puckerman wasn't there. When Sarah opened the door, Quinn smiled.

During her (thankfully brief) sojourn into living on the Puckermans' couch, with Puck so terrified of her and the baby and the prospect of the two of them together, and Mama Puckerman glaring at the non-Jew and muttering to herself as she served up dinner while Puck tried to make idiotic jokes and shooting glances in her direction that he thought she didn't notice, Sarah had been the only one who'd really adopted Quinn into the house. They'd had tea parties while Quinn helped Sarah with her history homework.

She'd sure gotten one hell of a shock when Sarah revealed that Puck had an enormous pair of nerdy glasses that he used when he corrected Sarah's math homework, which was apparently something that he'd been doing for years. Quinn had stared at her in stunned, shocked glee, and then promptly schooled Sarah in the art of blackmail, promising her that if she threatened to expose her older brother as a closeted math geek she'd be able to ply him for various things. Sarah had proved an amazingly good protégé, so much so that Quinn had nearly gotten a heart attack when Puck (looking annoyingly adorable) had stomped in one day, glasses on and scowl on his face, as he took out a book of Super Advanced Sudoku puzzles and a sharpened number two pencil, stabbing in numbers in staggeringly quick sequences and glaring at her when he said "Thanks a _lot_, bitch."

Funnily enough, Sarah Puckerman had come dancing into the house that day with an all new addition to her Barbie Dream House.

"Hi, Quinn!" Sarah sang out when she opened the door. "Noah's not here right now."

"I know," Quinn said. "Can you tell me where he is?"

"He said to not tell anyone – _especially not that evil blonde psycho-bitch_," Sarah quoted.

"I'll just bet he did," Quinn nodded. "But I really need to talk to him."

"What's it worth?" Sarah asked skeptically, her eyebrow cocked in a way that scarily echoed her brother's.

"Well, you see, if I don't talk to Noah and get him to stop being an idiot, he and Kurt might stay broken up and then Kurt might not be able to actually design that costume for your school's Halloween contest next year…" Quinn shrugged. Sarah's eyes widened comically.

"What did that _idiot_ do to get Kurt to dump him?" Sarah shrieked, emphasizing 'idiot' in such a _Kurt_-like way that it was everything Quinn had to _not_ laugh at the girl. "He's at the school in the gym; he'll be there all afternoon!"

"Thanks," Quinn said, ruffling the girl's hair affectionately, before she turned and headed back for Mike's scooter.

"Give him a smack from me!" Sarah yelled after her, and Quinn laughed as she kicked the thing in gear and headed for McKinley. She had to give it to him; that school on a Saturday was most likely the _last_ place anyone would think to look for him.

Quinn slowed down as she approached the school. She had such a mixed surge of feelings in her gut whenever she saw the place. On the one hand, it was fairly easy to remember how she'd felt as a freshman, just transferring from middle school, shining star of the Cheerios and envy of every girl in the school. Popularity hadn't been a fight or a struggle or even a question. She was Quinn Fabray, adored by all. Then…then there was everything else; the heartbreak over Puck and Finn, memories of Beth, of her pregnancy, of being invisible (or worse, a target), highs and lows in glee club, finding friends and losing others, the dissolution of her parents' marriage and the shaking of her faith in God that she'd once thought was so strong. Quinn had never thought she'd find herself doubting.

But oddly enough, no matter how Puck had broken her heart – albeit unintentionally – or how much trouble it all had caused, Quinn would never, ever trade her memories of her pregnancy for _anything_. So much had been lost but so much had been gained; in a dumb, totally Mr. Schuester-special way, she'd found herself. When she'd managed to connect to Mercedes and help her through Sylvester's reign of terror, Quinn had felt as if she were touched with the glow of God once more. There was a grace that no one but a mother could feel, that spark of _life_ growing within her that she had protected and nurtured and brought to term. There were parts of her that missed her little girl so fiercely, but this last month her mother had called her home from school to show her that Shelby Corcoran had unexpectedly sent the Fabrays a thick folder full of pictures of Beth and her new room and her expensive clothes. Her daughter was happy, healthy, and loved, and in giving her up Quinn had given a gift more precious than anything to a woman and eased her loneliness.

Maybe there was something to Kurt's argument that if there were a God then She was a woman, Quinn thought, and smiled to herself. Her confused romantic feelings for Puck had long since passed. She'd seen the man that he had tried to hide inside the scared little boy hiding behind his 'guns', and Puck deserved someone who could see Noah as well, and Kurt could give that to him more than anything. Not to mention, she just wanted them together, and Quinn just refused to accept anything short of success from today's mission.

She parked in the parking lot and headed around the school toward the locker rooms; the school's weight room was in between the boys' locker room and the gym with the girls' locker room on the other side of the gym toward the rest of the school. The door was unlocked, naturally, but then, the janitors had long since given up trying to stop the vandals of WMHS from doing whatever they wanted over the weekend.

She didn't have to look around long; heavy metal was pouring from the overhead speakers that Sylvester had installed (she hooked them up to her bullhorn while she was overseeing the Cheerios lifting weights to emphasize her screeching about how weak, pathetic and worthless they all were) and she just followed the noise until she saw Puck, shirtless, sweaty, and in a pair of beat-up grey sweatpants pounding the hell out of the punching bag with an intent bordering on desperation. The look on his face – anger, hopelessness, fear – was enough to churn her stomach, and of course, the lyrics of the song weren't helping (Quinn was not appreciative of how mood-appropriate the unintentional soundtrack of her day was; honestly, this wasn't a glee club meeting and hopefully Brad the piano man wasn't lurking around a corner somewhere like Quasimodo waiting to ring the bells for a meaningful ballad).

_It's haunting  
This hold that you have over me  
I grow so weak_

_I see you  
And everything around you fades  
And I can't see_

_You can never know what it is you do to me_

_I can't take what you do to me  
I can't take it_

_No matter what I say or what I do  
I know how this will end  
So I'm turning away now before we begin  
And now matter what you say or what you do  
I know how this will end  
So I'm turning away now  
I'm dangerous for you_

And, really, where Quinn was concerned, enough was enough with introspection, damn it, so she skittered around Puck's side and jabbed her finger at the OFF button, the music so loud that the silence rang in both of their ears as he aimed a few last vicious jabs at the bag before turning around to glare at her. Quinn wasn't sure if she should feel gratified or concerned that he didn't look in the least bit surprised to see her.

"You know, whatever happened to family bonds and all that other bullshit?" Puck snapped. "When I told Sarah that I didn't want anyone to find me, especially not _you_, I was really telling _you_ to _not_ come here."

"Gee. I'd never have guessed," Quinn sneered, turning and rooting through the closet until she found a clean white towel that she put on one of the weight-lifting benches before she sat down. When Puck opened his mouth, she speared him with a look and continued, "I _also_ found it interesting that you didn't say a word to Sarah that you and Kurt had had a fight last night."

"We broke up, Q, there's a difference," Puck said bluntly, turning around to aim a few more body shots at the bag.

"How long have you been here beating the crap out of that thing and pretending that it's Finn?" Quinn demanded irritably. Puck didn't answer her, which worried her more than she wanted to admit. "Puck?"

"'S not Finn," Puck grunted, slamming the bag again and again. "It's _me_." He punched it as hard as he could before he moved on to kicking, vicious body shots and higher head shots than she'd known he was capable of – but then, fight club. "I _promised_ I wouldn't hurt Kurt," he continued, his voice lowering to a snarl. "You're supposed to _keep_ your _promises_!" His face twisted into an ugly scowl, and Quinn's heart broke in her chest. She took a deep breath to steady herself, before she stepped forward and slapped him across the face.

It wasn't the worst slap she'd ever delivered (actually, Finn had been on the receiving end of that one last night and she'd been secretly (evilly) glad to see that he was still carrying a bruising handprint on his face this morning); actually, it was kind of weak. But it worked to jerk Puck back from that punching bag, and she took both of his cheeks in her hands and looked right into his eyes as she said firmly, "Noah, you are _not_ your father."

The angry mask that had been obscuring Puck's face crumpled like old paper and he turned away from her to fist his eyes angrily so she wouldn't see. She gave him a few moments to collect himself before she gently led him back to her bench, and she sat down while he folded to his knees, listlessly letting her peel the boxing gloves and hand wrap off, making sure that his knuckles weren't bleeding, before she took another towel and gently wiped his face off and dabbed at the sweat percolating on his chest and back. He sighed and tipped his head back, laying in her lap (but not before she put the towel back down, because dry cleaning for this uniform was hell).

"God, I really fucked everything up this time," Puck said listlessly.

"You made a mistake, Noah, but so did Kurt, and so did Finn, and Rachel, and hell, so did I, thinking that the four of you could work through all of your issues without my help," Quinn said firmly, trailing her hands through the short spikes of his hair. "You just need to _talk_ to Kurt, Noah, and explain why you did what you did, and stop trying to hide behind being the badass. He didn't fall for _Puck_, you moron, he fell for _Noah_, and don't you roll your eyes at me because he's still head over feet in love with you and he's being even more ridiculously sappy about last night than you are. Stop looking so happy."

"He…_really_?"

"Oh, for the love of—yes, you're both idiots, and now you can be idiots together. Congratulations," Quinn said. "And you'd better be prepared when you get home, because Sarah's not exactly happy with you."

"You just _had_ to tell her, didn't you?" Puck said grumpily, climbing to his feet.

"I trained her well – she demands exchanges now," Quinn said happily.

"Don't remind me," Puck grumped.

"Oh, and Noah?" she continued, climbing to her feet. "Look, I had a nice long talk with everyone else today, but this is _your_ relationship, and it matters. I've never seen you look at _anyone_ the way you look at Kurt, and believe me, that feeling? It's something worth fighting for. The next time something like this happens, I expect _you_ to man up and _talk_ to Kurt about it and work through it, because I'm not going through all of this again. I have my own life to worry about."

"Thanks, Quinnie," he said with a wry smile. "Never thought you'd be playing Dr. Phil for a bunch of losers, did you?"

"Of course not," Quinn snorted. "But you're all _my_ bunch of losers now, and you take so much looking after." Puck shot her a look which she quelled with one of her own. "Now go home and clean up. Kurt's going to be spending the weekend with Mercedes, most likely, so you better be ready to patch things up come Monday. And Puck? _Try_ not to do anything too stupid when you're wooing him back, hmm?"

"You said woo," Puck smirked.

"I'm going home," Quinn said irritably, but she smiled when she turned around as his laughter echoed through the locker room after her.

**Endgame: Burt**

**4:00 p.m.**

It was after four by the time Quinn pulled back up to the Hummel house, which was thankfully silent, meaning that Finn and Rachel were off singing God-knew-what and staring at each other in disgustingly sappy ways and Kurt and Mercedes were most likely knee deep in a _What Not to Wear_ marathon and shrieking horrifically cruel insults at the screen. Quinn tried not to think about what Brittany and Santana were doing at the moment. All was right with her subjects, and now she was on to speak to the papa bear.

She let herself in and headed downstairs, depositing her uniform in Kurt's dry-clean safe hamper for the moment and digging through the drawer that Kurt had decreed was hers since she spent so much time over there (Mercedes had two). She found a pretty blue sundress and a light cardigan to throw over it that would look nice enough and headed in to take a nice long shower, exulting in the massaging hot spray that restored her tired muscles. She wanted to feel nice and loose, knowing how much she was going to have to work out next week to make up for what she was putting in her body today alone.

_Ah, well_, she shrugged, scrubbing her skin with specialty soap that left a nice tingling sensation behind it. _It was a work day, and I deserved it all_.

She used a hairband to draw her hair back from her face and dried off, slipping into the airy dress and appreciating how light it was in comparison to her Cheerios uniform. She checked the clock and grinned with satisfaction that she'd timed it just right, as it was getting close to 5:00, and she slipped upstairs and used the hide-a-key to lock up behind her as she headed back to Mike's scooter and drove off down the street to Hummel's Garage. Burt glanced up from a customer he was finishing up with and smiled when he saw her, and Quinn waved brightly as she headed over.

"Quinnie, you should be wearing a helmet with that thing," Burt said, looking her over.

"Uncle Burt, it isn't even highway safe; it barely gets over twenty miles an hour," Quinn said, easing behind the counter to help him pack up his stuff.

"Where are we going today?" he asked, bemused.

"Dairy Queen," Quinn announced firmly. "And we are splitting an ice cream cake, too."

"And…" Burt looked at her meaningfully.

"And, I say absolutely nothing about these trips to Kurt, or he might start pricking you with needles at odd hours to start checking your blood for sodium content," Quinn reeled off with a smirk.

"Exactly," Burt nodded. "I just have to lock the doors up and close out the computer after that guy pulls his car out." Quinn nodded and pulled one of Kurt's _Vogue_ issues out from its box behind the counter and paged through the upcoming late summer/early fall collections while she waited, until Burt was standing over her in an undershirt that used to be white and a pair of jeans, looking so much like the stereotypical Ohio dad that her throat closed up.

"Uncle Burt, I really am so grateful for everything you've done for me," Quinn started, but she was cut off as he pulled her into a quick hug.

"You're family now, Quinnie, don't you worry about that," Burt said firmly, and if he didn't say anything when she wiped a few tears away, then she wasn't going to call attention to it either. It had been a long day. The two headed out to Burt's truck and loaded the scooter in the back. "This Mike kid is treating you right, isn't he?" Burt said skeptically.

"Yes; he's a perfect gentlemen," Quinn said with a smile.

"Good. I'd hate to have to threaten his life like with that Puckerman kid," Burt said darkly. "Who needs to learn to keep his grubby paws _off_ my kid."

"You know, I think he's growing his Mohawk back," Quinn said sweetly.

"God," Burt muttered darkly, ignoring her cackle as they headed out together, making a quick stop by the Chang house so that Quinn could wheel the scooter to the front porch and leave the key in the pot that Mike had left out for her. She found a sticky note curled up inside and she smiled sappily as she saw that it said _love you!_ with a ridiculously Asian smiley face underneath it. She tucked the note into her front pocket and skipped back to the truck, before they headed out to Dairy Queen.

She took the table while Burt went to order, and she picked one with the bright sunlight warming the seats and streaming over the table. It wasn't long before they were both tearing into ridiculously fattening burgers and sighing with satisfaction, and Quinn breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw that Sue Sylvester was nowhere around to breathe fire on Quinn's well-deserved indulgence – particularly the large slabs of ice cream cake waiting for them behind the counter. _God, give my friends the strength and the brains to work through this day_, she thought, glancing up at the brilliant heavens. When the opening chords of the next song started to play on the stereo, she, for once today, actually appreciated the psychic radio thing that seemed to have infected Lima lately, while the sun shown down on her new family.

_You think that I go home at night  
Take off my clothes, turn out the lights  
But I burn letters that I write  
To you, to make you love me_

_Yeah, I drive naked through the park  
And run the stop sign in the dark  
Stand in the street, yell out my heart  
To make, to make you love me_

_I am extraordinary, if you'd ever get to know me  
I am extraordinary, I am just your ordinary  
Average every day sane psycho  
Supergoddess  
Average every day sane psycho_…

**END OF CHAPTER**

_**Songs Used in This Chapter:**_

"**It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World"**** by Glee Cast (Quinn) – As this chapter was so Quinn-centric, it seemed appropriate to use her solos throughout. Not to mention, her rendition of this song is probably my favorite cover of this song that I've ever heard, and in my opinion, it was one of the only good parts of "Funk", so there you have it.**

"**I Say a Little Prayer for You"**** by Glee Cast (Quinn) – It was just so adorable that I couldn't help myself, really.**

"**Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say)"**** by Lady Gaga**

"**Time to Say Goodbye (English Version)"**** by Sarah Brightman — This song (one of her signatures) is usually an Italian duet with Andrea Bocelli, but her English translation is a gorgeous piece and the actual lyrics are amazing…not to mention, I don't credit Rachel with classical Italian opera training, so there you go.**

"**You Keep Me Hangin' On"**** by Glee Cast (Quinn)**

"**Broken"**** by Seether (featuring Amy Lee of Evanescence)**

"**Reverie"**** by Megan McCauley – This song is absolutely gorgeous. I realize I've kind of been using this story to pimp out Megan McCauley's music, but the more people I get to listen to her, the sooner she might actually release a second album, and I'd love for that to happen, so…pimpage!**

"**The Descent (Confessions of a Ghost)"**** by Mark Salling – One of the best songs off of his new album **_**Pipe Dreams**_**. I really cannot recommend that album enough. Plus using it gave me that opportunity to insert random meta-jokes here and there.**

"**Papa Don't Preach"**** by Glee Cast (Quinn)**

"**The Promise"**** by In This Moment – Here's another bit of pimpage; this is an absolutely astoundingly raw female-fronted heavy metal band, and they are amazing. Their new album **_**A Star-Crossed Wasteland**_** is likely one of my favorite metal releases of the last five years or so, and that's saying something.**

"**Extraordinary"**** by Liz Phair – I have a love/hate relationship with this woman and this album; I loved Liz Phair initially and I bought the deluxe anniversary redux of **_**Exile in Guyville**_**. She took a huge, years-long break from music and came back doing pop instead of grunge/alternative, and while I hate that she sold-out like that, in terms of actual pop albums **_**Liz Phair**_** is a pretty good one. And this song's lyrics just sort of described my feelings about Quinn at the end. Thus, its inclusion.**

**A/N:** HOLY SHIT! I thought I'd _never_ get this chapter finished, god damn it all! It was so much fun to write, though, and I wanted to get everything finished exactly to my satisfaction. I changed songs around, cut songs out, put songs in, changed conversations around, decided what was too much – I was nearly pulling my hair out at the end, because I wanted you guys to get this before the end of last Sunday, and here we are now. But, I am supremely satisfied with this chapter, and I hope that you will be too.

**Next time around we're going back to Puck's POV and resuming the regularity of this story, just to let you all know. Also, next chapter will (hopefully) not be quite as long…**

**COMING NEXT TIME on **_**Kurt's Gamble**_**: Kurt and Puck have to man up and have a talk, while Finn has some apologies to hand out. Puck undergoes a radical change to prove himself, but how will Kurt react?**


	15. So Happy I Could Die

**A/N:** So, clearly, it's been forever. There's a multitude of reasons for this, mainly personal, but one overarching reason that I _will_ share with you: I'm done with _Glee_. For me, the show ended after the third season. It has become completely ridiculous, and I mean in the ludicrous soap opera sort of way. Puck's long-lost half-brother who happens to appear at McKinley and be found through glee club? The Dalton Warblers being found to be using steroids to win a _singing_ competition? A new love triangle between Rachel and Finn and a newcomer with a mysterious pregnancy test plotline? I simply can't do it anymore. I loved season three and I love the original characters introduced throughout those three seasons, but once those characters graduated, the show ended for me.

(Although, to be completely honest, I've been downloading the music from season four so far. I'm not enamoured with any of the new characters, but they've been doing some good songs thus far.)

In any case, I'm not going to do what the original plan was, which was to write an enormously long author's note in the way of a letter to my readers explaining all the wherefores of the lack of update from me on all fronts. Instead, I'm going to just give you a new chapter, and leave the author's note where it should be left:

_**Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to every single person who has ever read, favorited, followed, or especially took the time to review my story. Reading the pages of reviews for this story is part of what fueled me to finally finish this. Thank you so much – you are amazing.**_

**Also, an important note on song choices:** This story was begun in 2010. It is now 2013. I'm kicking this chapter off with a song released in 2012. I'll most likely not be caring about the anachronism of this, so consider this my little tribute to the many suspensions of disbelief _Glee_ asks its audience to indulge in over the course of the show.

And so, with all of that out of the way, let's go on to:

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

Chapter 15: So Happy I Could Die

**L! U! V! Madonna!**

**Y! O! U! You wanna!**

With a roundoff to start with, Kurt launched into a backhandspring, landing it with enough of a stick to satisfy most coaches and not enough of one to spare him a rant from Sylvester later. Wincing, he shook it off quickly, spun around, and moved into formation with the intricate dance moves of the Cheerios. Quinn, having mirrored Kurt's move from the other side of the mat, spun into a graceful 360° pirhouette and took the spotlight, her overexaggerated Madonna-style microphone masking the sleeker, more high-tech version she actually began to sing into.

_I see you coming and I don't want to know your name_

(**L! U! V! Madonna! **the Cheerios roared, stomping hard.)

_I see you coming and you're gonna have to change your game_

(**Y! O! U! You wanna!**)

_Would you like to try? Give me a reason why – give me all that you've got_

_Maybe you'll do fine as long as you don't lie to me and pretend to be what you're not_

Kurt skipped forward and began to move back-to-back with Quinn, his own Madonna-mic getting in his way as he whipped his head back and forth while trying not to let the prop fly off of his face. When he'd helped conceive this damn routine to get Quinn back on the squad, he hadn't exactly anticipated that they'd end up here, he thought wryly. Still, the audience was going wild and he was riding the adrenaline high of the performance as he and Quinn worked in synch to lead the squad, his voice joining hers on the second line until they launched into the chorus, pyramids rising behind them.

_Don't play the stupid game, 'cuz I'm a different kind of girl_

**Every record sounds the same – you gotta step into my world**

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

_**Give me all your love today**_

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

_**Let's forget about time, and dance our lives away**_

As the Cheerios launched into the cheerleading stomp again, Quinn spun backwards and was swiftly carried to the top of a pyramid as Kurt took center stage, the more athletic Cheerios flipping and spinning behind him in an insane dance, the tightness of the formations some of the best that they'd managed all year. Kurt pitched his voice strongly and began the second verse.

_Keep trying – don't give up, as if you want it bad enough_

(**L! U! V! Madonna!**)

_It's right in front of you; now tell me what you're thinking of_

(**Y! O! U! You wanna!**)

_In another place, at a different time, you can be my lucky star_

_We can drink some wine, Bergundy is fine_

_Let's drink the bottle, every drop_

While the dancing and gymnastics intensified, the pyramid dissolved as Quinn was tossed to the bottom and flipped to the front again, taking over the verse once more.

_Don't play the stupid game, 'cuz I'm a different kind of girl_

**Every record sounds the same – you gotta step into my world**

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

_**Give me all your love today**_

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

_**Let's forget about time, and dance our lives away**_

Kurt and Quinn moved quickly to the left and right flanks of the tightly-woven formation the Cheerios had formed, respectively, and Kurt smirked as Brittany leapt forward and started dancing freestyle, her insanely good moves quickly outshining her competently rapped verse as she took center stage for the first time in a Cheerios performance.

_Give me all your love, boy_

_You can be my boy, you can be my boytoy_

_In the nick of time, I could say a sicker rhyme_

_'Cuz it's time for change, like a nickel or a dime_

_Ooh, I'm Roman_

_I'm a barbarian – I'm Conan_

_You was sleepin' on me, you was dozin'_

_Now move! I'm goin' in!_

Brittany tossed her head back playfully with a sly grin and danced back to rejoin the Cheerios behind her while Quinn piped back up from the rear right.

_You have all the L-U-V; I gave you everything you need_

Next, Kurt stepped forward from the rear left, forming the complicated wings of the movment while still more basket-tosses and aerial acrobatics took place behind him.

**Now it's up to Y-O-U – are you the one? Shall we proceed?**

From the middle, Cheerios parted and Santana ruthlessly stomped forward, her lips curling in something like a sneer as she took center stage and owned it shamelessly.

_Me, I'm next, yeah_

_I'm so swag shit_

_No-one gives you this_

_Just supersonic bionic uranium hits_

_So I'm breaking off tricks_

_Let's pray that it sticks_

_I'mma say this once, yeah_

_I don't give a shit_

As one, the Cheerios dropped down to the floor, their bodies forming a circle with Kurt and Quinn in the middle, back to back, heads tossed back like the champions they were. It was a good feeling.

_Don't play the stupid game, 'cuz I'm a different kind of girl_

**Every record sounds the same – you gotta step into my world**

With that, the Cheerios leapt back up, moving in synch as they soared toward their insane finale, the crowd roaring its approval as the lights swerved madly and the confetti cannons went off with sonic booms, raining down on the cheerleading squad.

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

(**L! U! V! Madonna!**)

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

(**Y! O! U! You wanna!**)

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

_**Give me all your love today**_

_**Give me all your luvin', give me your love**_

_**Let's forget about time, and dance our lives away!**_

As the drums boomed a finish and the Cheerios behind Kurt and Quinn struck a pose, Brittany and Santana returned from the back from where they'd fallen and brought with them the massive trophy the Cheerios had won at Nationals that year, which the four of them hefted proudly, holding it high for the world – and the cameras – to see. The Cheerios had staged the performance as a victory tour and a taste of what they would be working on over the summer, ensuring that their competition would still be trembling in terror come next year. ESPN would be showing it on the appropriate channels, and Kurt's head was still spinning that this would be the second time that his singing and dancing would be broadcast on national television. Sure, the audience for cheerleading competitions wasn't global and was still more of a niche, but this would surely bulk up his portfolio when he applied to dramatic arts schools in New York. But all of that wasn't what was really on his mind – the audience was roaring, and for that moment, Kurt felt like he was on top of the world.

It was, he reflected as the four gleeks-cum-Cheerios fell into a hysterical sort of group hug with the exhausted squad behind them, good to be back. Kurt waved tiredly at his father and Carole and Finn and Rachel, who were all cheering from the front row, but he couldn't stop his eyes from restlessly scanning the audience for a certain figure who seemed to elude detection. He sighed, but froze when someone moved from the shadows of the bleachers toward the door.

Puck's eyes met Kurt's in one long, heartstopping moment, and the Mohawked boy nodded with his trademarked smirk firmly in place in Kurt's direction, just once. Then, as the audience moved in on the cheerleading troupe, he was gone, leaving Kurt's heart pounding in his wake.

_** One Week Ago**_

After Quinn had left Saturday morning, and after Kurt and Mercedes had spent most of Saturday afternoon catching up as only best friends could, Kurt had woken up Sunday with a mission. The first order of business, he decided, was a makeover. Any good change of heart, mind, or both demanded nothing less, and he had a lot of ground to cover. The red highlights needed to go, but he was done keeping his hair in a heavily-sprayed coif. Freeing his hair from stiffness had made it that much silkier and brighter in the light. The more punkish clothes needed to be integrated into his broader wardrobe and some pieces needed to be burnt (Kurt _never_ donated to any store's used clothes section – the poorly dressed faction of Lima certainly didn't get their dated look from _him_). There was really only one option for step one of the plan forming in his mind.

"Hello?"

"Mercedes, you fabulous bitch," Kurt said merrily. "A trip to the spa?"

"What do you _want_?" she asked suspiciously.

"As if I need an ulterior motive for inviting you to spa day," Kurt tried. "I am _hurt_."

"Bitch, please," Mercedes said, though she sounded like she was smothering laughter. "Since when is my spa _free_?"

"Since I'm shopping for a makeover," Kurt declared triumphantly.

"I'm not helping you clean out your closet," Mercedes returned flatly.

"But—"

"_No_."

"The last time I conned you into it wasn't _that_ bad," Kurt whined.

"I put a hat into the wrong box and you spent ten minutes yelling at me," Mercedes reminded him.

"You got a free Ben & Jerry's run out of it," Kurt responded sullenly.

"That ice cream was _not_ free," Mercedes said indignantly. "It was _earned_. There I was, an innocent, railroaded by your OCD closet system—"

"You _threw_ – _threw_ – a Vivian Westwood into the box for Prada!" Kurt interjected heatedly.

"—_railroaded_," Mercedes continued mercilessly, "when my _best friend_ decided he was going to cause my next migraine! _Free ice cream_! Ha!" Scathing didn't quite cover it.

"You're a wretched friend!" Kurt wailed.

"Bye now," Mercedes sang out cheerily, and hung the phone up. Kurt stared gloomily at the phone. Clearly this was going to require the big guns. Taking a moment to contemplate the soon-to-be sad amount of his pride, Kurt swallowed a touch of Mama Rose's bitterness and declared himself a martyr to the greedy goddess Fashion and pulled up a new blank text message.

**To: Mercedes Jones—** _What if I threw in shiatsu?_

**From: Mercedes Jones—** _I'll carry the bags._

Kurt punched a fist in the air.

**888**

Kurt woke up in the morning on Monday at precisely 4:30, feeling absolutely disgusting. He hadn't set the alarm clock early enough to go through his strict regiment in so long that he'd nearly forgotten the strengthening feeling of forcing himself out of bed so early. The thought irritated him slightly, so he pushed it away and ducked into his mini-fridge, grabbing a bottle of cold artisan water to get rid of the cotton-mouth sensation of the early morning. Hearing the small, musical ding of the alarm on his coffee maker going off, Kurt smiled hugely as the smell of boiled caffeinated ambrosia spread throughout the room.

Once he had filled up, Kurt went to the bathroom to take care of urgent business before he slid his silk pyjama bottoms into the dry-clean only cloth bin, settled into his favorite old robe, and headed back into his main room, smirking as he saw his new pride and joy. IKEA sales were wonderful things, and the cold, curved metal of his new vanity with a white stone top and an ovular mirror fit into a simple backing fit into his room like a missing puzzle piece, and he sat in the swept-back oval chair like it was a throne. Kurt pushed all other thoughts out of his mind and sat down, flicking his iPod on to Madonna's _Hard Candy_ album, letting the dance-beat heavy music wash through the room as he pushed his hair back and began rubbing creams, moisturizers and softeners over his hands, his arms, his face. He felt the sting of the astringent and the soothing 'morning burst' bubbles seeping into his pores, waking him up and brightening his skin.

It had been the strangest few months – in some ways, he felt more like himself than he ever had before, and yet in other ways he knew that he still had much more to figure out. It felt..._good_, Kurt thought, knowing how much of his life was still ahead of him. Dipping his toes into the pool of teenage drama was fun and all, but his life was still his own and the rest could go to hell. _Although_, he thought wryly, _I'll never quite regret that confrontation with Karofsky_.

_On any given night_

_Catch me on the floor_

_Working up a sweat_

_That's what music's for_

_I'd rather not explain_

_For me, it's just usual_

Once the last of it was done, Kurt stood and headed into the bathroom, carrying his iPod dock with him and setting it behind the small screen he'd made for it with his father's help one summer to protect it from moisture. Once he'd carefully washed his face with warm water, he flipped the shower on and waited for it to warm up, glancing at the clock and seeing with no small satisfaction that he was still right on schedule – shower at 5:15. Hanging his robe up on its hook, Kurt stepped into the shower and sighed as the massaging showerhead went right to work, letting himself soak properly before he set to work on shampooing, conditioning, scrubbing and moisturizing.

_This complicated life_

_I try to do my best_

_I always tell myself:_

_It's all just a test_

_For me it's an escape_

_'Cuz dancing makes me feel beautiful_

Towelling dry with his plush terry-cloth towels, Kurt let himself sashay into his wardrobe, disregarding some of the newer additions and tripping back toward the back. Humming to himself, he went through the sections carefully, checking the weather app on his iPhone and chuckling at the memory of the time that Puck had accused him of being a complete label whore. _Yes. And?_ Kurt had asked, nonplussed. Puck's eyeroll had been almost as impressive as some of Kurt's best. The memory held surprisingly little pain; really, he'd have to hug Quinn when he made it to school. Eying some bolder choices, Kurt shrugged and happily plucked them off their hangers and headed back out to his bedroom to change.

_You probably think I'm crazy_

_I don't want you to save me_

_Don't mean to disappoint you_

_I've never felt so free_

_If you could stand in my shoes_

_Then you would feel my heartbeat too_

Regarding himself before the mirror, Kurt arched his eyebrow and smirked. An artistically done _The Fame Monster_ white T-shirt was tucked into a pair of boot-cut Dolce & Gabbana jeans that made his ass look _fantastic_; they fit around his Doc Martins with loving precision. Some breathable Alexander McQueen-inspired fingerless gloves done in black and white with hints of red completed the look – almost. He artistically draped a simple, dark red decorative scarf around his neck and re-checked his hair. Dabbing just the right amount of Dior Homme strategically, Kurt Hummel felt like he'd just stepped out of a _Vogue_ fashion shoot. Clasping his slim-cut leather belt, he smiled angelically and decreed:

"The bitch is back."

**888**

Kurt already had breakfast ready for the rest of his family when they headed downstairs. Finn stepped in hesitantly and Kurt took one final breath to expell the lingering bitterness. The other boy had apologized so profusely once Quinn had left Saturday that he'd nearly cried; and, honestly, Finn didn't _mean_ to be so dumb. Kurt sighed, exhaling slowly, before he turned and offered Finn a small smile. "I made pancakes," he went with, gesturing at the table. Finn slowly started smiling, tension leaving his body, and Kurt smiled as he sat down across from the other boy and dug in to his own (much, _much_ smaller plate).

Burt and Carole staggered in and stopped, taken aback, a few minutes later as Kurt laughed at a joke that Finn cracked, the two of them passing syrup back and forth and Kurt threatening death if Finn attempted to wreck his outfit. "That girl is a miracle worker," Carole breathed fervently.

"Or a criminal mastermind," Burt agreed.

"Or both," Kurt broke in. "You know, as it's Quinn."

"Can you imagine her, like, running for president?" Finn asked.

"I'm _not_ agreeing to be her campaign manager," Kurt said. "She'd be a nightmare."

"Like you'd miss the chance to dress up the first chick president," Finn shot back. Kurt paused and thought about this for a moment.

"Point," he conceded. Finn did a fist pump and Kurt rolled his eyes as he took a delicate bite of his pancake.

"You look...snazzy, Kurt," Burt tried.

"_Fierce_, dad," Kurt corrected, grinning. "I look _fierce_. And thank you."

"Dude, we're totally going to be late for school," Finn said, seeming to suddenly see the clock.

"_You_ might be late for school, Finn Hudson," Kurt said with some asperity. "_I'm_ already ready to go _and_ my backpack is in my car. I'll be leaving in five minutes, thank you."

"You can't leave without me!" Finn protested.

"You'd better get dressed then, hadn't you?" Kurt suggested blithely.

"Shi—crap, mom, crap!" Finn hollered, and thundered up the stairs. Carole snorted into her bacon as Burt hid his grin behind his orange juice cup.

"I find it somewhat vulgar that five minutes is all it takes for him to get dressed and clean enough by his own standards to go out into public," Kurt said after a moment. "I'm going to have to start investing in car fresheners."

"And you'll be doing it with generic brand fresheners, too," Burt commented. Kurt curled his lip and Burt returned the look in kind. "Don't think that I didn't see that dry-cleaning bill you tried to sneak past me in the shop this weekend, kid."

"But—"

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter. I know everything in this house," Burt said loftily. He took another sip of his coffee. "Hey – don't the living room drapes look lighter? Did you wash them or something?"

"About that..." Carole said after a moment.

"Ready!" Finn announced, flopping down the stairs in ratty jeans, a T-shirt that had seen better days sometime in the '90's and his backpack. Smirking, Kurt grabbed his keys and waved merrily at Carole as he grabbed Finn and headed toward the door.

"Traitor!" she called after him.

"Lovely day outside, isn't it?" Kurt asked, slipping his D&G sunglasses on as he shut the door behind him.

"Did I just miss something?" Finn asked as Kurt started his baby and rolled the windows down.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Kurt said, flipping the stereo on and smiling as Lady Gaga's "Money Honey" started up.

**888**

Quinn met up with them outside of the school as they were heading inside. Kurt moaned in something like disgust as Santana and Brittany emerged from a lip-lock to wave at them all merrily before going back at it, a crowed of mesmerized jocks watching. Finn firmly looked away, and Kurt and Quinn shared a smile of approval as Rachel headed towards them. There was an awkward silence as Rachel and Finn stared into each others' eyes and seemed to lose the ability to speak.

"Oh, dear Gaga, I think I hear violins," Kurt commented acerbically.

"For the love of God," Quinn said irritably and stepped forward. "Have a nice trip, Rachel," she said sweetly before tugging Rachel forward and tripping her over her foot. Rachel squawked indignantly before she stumbled right into Finn's arms. They met each others' eyes and smiled, and Quinn and Kurt calmly fist-bumped before pressing their sunglasses up on their noses and heading towards the school.

"Did that really just happen?" Mercedes inquired, linking arms with Kurt.

"I know – sometimes I even amaze myself," Quinn said serenely.

"Oh, go suck face with Mike," Kurt said, flapping his arm.

"You know, I think I will. _And_ feel up his abs while I'm at it," Quinn returned, smirking hugely at them and skipping off down the hall toward Mike's locker. Kurt and Mercedes shared a chuckle.

"Oh, girl, your hips don't lie," Kurt commented. "That skirt _should not_ work with that top; I'm insanely jealous of your chocolate thunder."

"Everyone is, boo," Mercedes said. "You look hot!"

"Exactly," Kurt said, nodding. They grinned and linked pinkies as they headed off down the hall, and Kurt smiled at the sunlight as they passed two jocks who looked like they wanted to do something with their slushies but thought better of it. "I don't think I'll ever regret taking Karofsky down in public. It's saved me so much on dry-cleaning I'm thinking about buying those ridiculously expensive Lady Gaga headphones in victory."

"That, and he deserved it so much it's hard to believe," Mercedes said. "Have you broken down and talked to Puck yet?"

"No," Kurt said calmly. "I'm kind of...tired, of making plans and doing the chasing. You were right about game playing this weekend, and I'm done playing stupid games. The ball's in his court right now; if he's ready to fight for this, then he's certainly welcome to try."

"That's my boy," Mercedes nodded approvingly.

"Now, my love, enough of me. I _need_ dish on you and this Eric character from your church..." Kurt and Mercedes walked arm in arm through the doors of McKinley, and for the first time in nearly two months Kurt felt like his life was heading back to normal.

**888**

For nearly the entire day, Kurt didn't see a sign of Puck – including in the one class that they shared together. Every time a Mohawk entered his line of sight, it was like he'd imagined it, the other boy disappeared so fast. Quinn and Mercedes both had shrugged, but Kurt couldn't help but be a little stung by it all. They were on the outs, but did Puck really have to treat him like he had the _plague_ or something? Frowning at his lunch, Kurt cast a covert glance at the jocks' table, where Puck was facing away from him. Clearly this was going to call for drastic measures in glee club—

_The hell with that_, Kurt thought, munching on his salad. The whole point of his makeover – well, not really a makeover, but coming back to his fabulous self, and rightly so – wasn't so that Puck would approve. Did Kurt want Noah back? Absolutely. But was he ready to swallow every ounce of pride he had and crawl back to the other boy? _Aw, hell to the no_, as one Mercedes Jones would say. If Puck were willing to talk to him, then Kurt would apologize for his part in the spectacular explosion that was the end of the Puck and Kurt show, and accept Puck's apology for his part. If Puck were willing to apologize at all, which was anyone's guess. _The problem being that the both of us have too much pride for our own damn good._

The problem with Puck being the only person that Kurt had ever dated was that other than terrible teenage magazines and his passion for Broadway romances, Kurt didn't have a guide to the protocols of dealing with another person. At this point he was so frustrated trying to figure out what to do that he was tempted to just give up and ask Quinn for her help...but this wasn't Quinn's relationship, it was _his_, damn it, and he should be able to fix it. Right? Or was it Puck's job to fix it because he was the one who eavesdropped and started the argument process in the first place? Kurt buried his head in his hands.

"You're being overdramatic again," Tina observed, sitting next to him and shoving a chair out of the way so that Artie could wheel up next to her. "What is it this time?"

"I hate you two so much," Kurt whined. "How do you make this relationship thing look so damn _easy_ all the time?"

Artie laughed at him meanly as Tina rubbed his shoulder soothingly. "Relationships aren't easy, Kurt, they're things that you have to work at. Artie and I fight all the time over stupid stuff, but realizing that it's stupid is the first step."

"I still maintain that you took it a little far when you humiliated me publicly after destroying me on Halo Live," Artie said after a moment.

"We agreed not to talk about that, sweetie," Tina reminded him, smirking.

"I see that smirk," Artie said warningly.

"Whatever," Tina said, turning her back on him. "The point is that relationships are all about giving and taking. People are never going to be ideal versions that you want around you all the time. If you want to spend every waking minute in that person's presence, you're totally doing something wrong."

Kurt frowned, thinking about this. He didn't have time to think long, though; Artie irritably tossed a french fry at the back of Tina's head, causing her to shriek loud enough for several tables to glance in their direction. The jock table, inevitably, cried "FOOD FIGHT!" and Kurt was forced to hold his bag up as a shield as the three gleeks slid out of the cafeteria's back doors toward the dumpsters.

"I'm not talking to you," Tina informed Artie haughtily before she headed into the annex and pointedly walked up the stairs towards her math class.

"See? We'll be making out again by glee today," Artie told Kurt. Kurt shot him a look, but reluctantly participated in a fist bump as the other boy wheeled toward the elevator.

Kurt headed to French in a daze. Did he want to be around Puck all the time? Probably not, he reflected. He loved the other boy, he really did – or as much as teenagers can be sure of that. He knew that he cared about him deeply. He found Puck exciting and fun and funny...and exasperating and infuriating and smug and a complete asshole at times, at which point he often found himself wanting to brain the Mohawked boy next to him with a polished oak Ethan Allen coat rack loaded down with couture. For days at a time they could get along like they'd been friends for years, but then there were times when their conflicting interests would just leave them in the dust.

Kurt would never be interested in football – not even watching Puck play could hold his attention for long. And of course even mention the latest issue of _Broadway Weekly_ to Puck and he'd literally tip his head back and pretend to snore until Kurt either changed the subject or slugged him (usually the latter, though sometimes the former would prove interesting enough).

And it ran even deeper than that, too; Puck's infamous pool cleaning business certainly had never ceased while Puck and Quinn had been 'together' for whatever stretch of time they had actually tried to be a couple. Could – _should_ – Kurt ever trust Puck completely with his heart, as girly as that sounded? Hadn't this last week proven how fragile that heart could be...but also how strong? Wasn't that the whole point of most of the epic romances he'd watched over the years of his youth, that you had to hold that fragile little muscle out and hope that whoever took it didn't crush it into a pulp?

_That does it_, Kurt thought viciously. _I'm through letting Tina talk me into horror movie marathons_.

But then, where did all that leave him? Kurt wondered, walking from French to History and failing to pay attention once more. He knew that he cared deeply for Puck and wanted to find out all that they could become, once all the drama between them was settled. He also knew that he owed Puck an apology, but more importantly, Puck owed an apology to _him_. This whole mess wouldn't even exist if Puck hadn't eavesdropped and Kurt had been able to meet him at Santana's party like he'd been planning to confess his feelings on the issue.

Was his pride more important than fighting to put the pieces of him and Puck back together again? Or was not waiting for the apology, waiting for Puck to make the first move, the hallmark of Kurt giving in on something important, a roadmark in their complicated relationship – a relationship, he reminded himself, that he wasn't even sure if Puck still _wanted_; after all, the other boy had blatantly skipped class just to avoid him, it wasn't like—

Kurt yelped as he was abruptly jerked by the elbow into the empty biology lab; the room was dark and he couldn't see his assailant so he swirled around and swung with his satchel as hard as he could into the dark figure's midsection. "_Oof_!" wheezed the boy, and Kurt stumbled backward, bag still raised as a weapon, and fumbled for the light switch.

"What the _hell_, princess?" Puck demanded, rubbing his belly and glaring balefully at Kurt as Kurt leaned back against the wall and tried to slow his pounding heart, glaring right back at the other boy. "I just wanted—"

"—just wanted _what_, you ignorant _idi_ot, to give me premature _gray hair_, you are such a—"

"—if you would just _listen_, for _once_, instead of taking over every damn conversation—"

"—_that's_ rich, coming from _you_, you absolute—"

"Ah, for the love of _god_, just shut up for a second!" Puck snapped, and then Kurt was abruptly swept up in strong, muscular arms and Puck's mouth covered his. The kiss was searing in its intensity and before he could even so much as think he was kissing back, and dear _Gaga_, this, _this_ was worth _everything_ and what the hell was he _thinking_ that he could go without this, without the burning passion and the sharp rasp of stubble on his cheek and Puck's arms holding him tightly...

They separated slowly and reluctantly, and Kurt took a step back, bringing his hand to his lips slowly. "Oh...kay, then," Puck said, taking a step back. "That wasn't really how I wanted to start this off. But...I mean, you seemed like you were..."

"Oh, shut up," Kurt said waspishly. "You can't just go the whole day ignoring me and then haul me into unknown places and _kiss_ me like nothing's wrong—"

"I wasn't ignoring you!" Puck said quickly. Kurt cocked his eyebrow doubtfully. The other boy was standing in front of him, eyes on the ground, one hand in his pocket and the other trailing restlessly over the small strip of the Mohawk growing back into place. He was dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans, and he smelled delicious – but Kurt wasn't going there, not right now. "I just...I've wanted to talk to you all weekend, and then all day, but I didn't know what to say or how to say it, or even how to get you alone, and then there you were and there was an empty classroom and I sort of just, you know—"

"Acted without thinking?" Kurt finished for him, a touch acerbically. It wasn't as satisfying as he'd thought it would be to see Puck wince.

"I kind of deserved that, I guess," Puck acknowledged. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Kurt asked, softer than he would have thought he would've been able to phrase the question. "Because this whole weekend I've been thinking of about a thousand things that I've wanted to apologize to you for and another thousand that I've been wanting _you_ to apologize to _me_ for. And you know what? I don't even know where to start," he admitted, stepping away from the other boy and sitting down at one of the empty lab tables.

"You too, huh?" Puck asked with a low, husky chuckle that Kurt refused to admit sent shivers up his spine. Puck took a seat at the table in front of Kurt's, turned backward on the chair that he sat on, straddling it and waiting until Kurt's eyes met his. "I've been thinking about all the things that I wanted to say to you since that night in your basement, and I've come up with bupkiss."

"I can't believe you can say that word with a straight face," Kurt commented, wrinkling his nose.

"You love when el Puckerone brings out the Italiano," Puck countered.

"Loser," Kurt decreed.

"Takes one to know one," Puck shot back.

"What are you, twelve?" Kurt asked incredulously. Puck smirked and waggled his eyebrows playfully, and Kurt snorted into his sleeve, rolling his eyes to the sky. "What am I going to do with you, Noah Puckerman?" The question wasn't entirely rhetorical.

"What do you _want_ to do with me, princess?" Puck asked, but there wasn't a trace of teasing in his tone. His brown eyes were serious, and they trapped Kurt in his intense gaze.

"I...I don't know," Kurt confessed. "I don't want to pick right back up where we left off, but I don't want things to be over either. I don't know how to bridge the two. I'm not exactly the more experienced of the two of us, here," he joked.

"Babe, I haven't been with anyone the way I've been with you," Puck said flatly. "You aren't the only one flying blind here."

"So I guess the question remains: where does this leave us? Because I don't know what I'm ready for, or what you're ready for, or even if..." Kurt trailed off awkwardly.

"If what?" Puck asked sharply. "If this is worth it?"

"I didn't say that," Kurt said quickly.

"So what then?" Puck said, his voice husky with hurt, and damn it if Kurt didn't feel guilty as hell for putting it there. "We just go our separate ways and try to pretend that this never happened?"

"I don't want to pretend that this never happened," Kurt said softly.

"Well, then, when you finally figure out what you _do_ want, there'll probably be a damn parade," Puck said irritably. Kurt smiled weakly.

"Puck," he tried again, searching for words. "We started this thing...I mean, as far as I knew you were mostly straight and I was just...gambling. This whole thing was a gamble, but I didn't know what the stakes were. And they're...high, to say the least. And now I don't know what the rules of the game are, and I'm just...I'm confused, and I'm frustrated, and I'm still _angry_ at you, you know, but I miss being able to call you and tell you about the next stupid thing Finn did in front of my dad or watching you roll your eyes at me and Rachel. So, no, I don't know where we go from here."

"Okay," Puck said slowly. "Well, here's this for starters. I'm totally into you, and you know it. So don't doubt that. I don't know much about this gay or straight thing – Quinn tried to tell me about this Kenny stale thing—"

"_Kinsey_ scale, I mean, _really_, Puck—"

"Right, that," Puck went on quickly, and Kurt forced himself to subside. Puck was leaning forward, his eyes intense, and once more Kurt felt that sinking sensation where all the air seemed to be sucked from the room until there was nothing but this bubble of him and Puck, where nothing else mattered and never would again, which was beyond ridiculous, but then, he didn't seem to have much control over himself and his heart when Noah Puckerman was involved. "Mostly it was just confusing so I didn't pay much attention. But if being with you makes me gay, then I'm gay for you Kurt and screw what anyone else says. I don't _care_ what anyone else says.

"And I get that you're still mad at me. What I did was stupid and I shouldn't have done it. And you know what? I'm sorry, okay, I'm sorry. But you _should have told me_. I thought that you didn't trust me enough to tell me. And that hurt more than anything. But hearing you say that you still _cared_ about Finn after everything, after what he freaking did—"

"I take it that's where you stopped listening and started punching?" Kurt said dryly. Puck frowned and looked away, and Kurt snorted inelegantly. "You kind of missed the mind-blowing epiphany where I realized that I never _had_ been in love with Finn and certainly wasn't in love with him by then."

"Yeah. I kind of had that talk with Quinn after the party disaster," Puck acknowledged. "And then me and Finn had it out yesterday—"

"How the hell did you and Finn talk yesterday without me finding out about it and neither of you in the ER?" Kurt asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"You were out with Mercedes still and I swung by. I figured if I was really going to start with this whole apology thing, me and Finn were going to have to get our shit out of the way one way or another. Even though I still don't like it sometimes, he's a big part of your life now, and it's kind of nice seeing the guy who used to be my best friend and _not_ wanting to punch his face in for hurting you."

"Oh," Kurt said intelligently.

"Yeah," Puck said, smirking slightly. "And that totally _wasn't_ Quinn's idea, either; I did it myself."

"I find it amusing the way she thinks that nobody realizes the way she runs our lives," Kurt remarked after a moment. He and Puck shared a smile, but it didn't last long. "If we're really going to try this apology thing, then it's good that we're doing it on our own, you know, without anyone's help. So here goes." Kurt swallowed, and drummed his fingers on the table restlessly. "I am sorry that I felt like I couldn't tell you what had happened. It was just so..._embarrassing_, and so hurtful, and this entire year has been this giant emotional whirlwind and I just...exploded. I feel like you got caught up in the shrapnel of that more than I had ever intended, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Is that what you think? That I'm only with you because you exploded and I didn't have, like, a choice in this or something? Because that's bullshit," Puck started angrily.

"No, no, nothing like that," Kurt said quickly. "It's just...we didn't _notice_ each other, except to bully each other in our own ways, not until glee. I didn't _know_ you, and now that I do, I couldn't possibly go back to you being no one. You're someone, Noah, especially to me...I just don't know what kind of someone you are now that we're being realistic. Now that things have calmed down and the storm is over, how do we fit?"

"Dunno," Puck said. "But I'm game if you still want to try."

"I just don't know _how_," Kurt said frustratedly.

"Well, neither do I. But it's gotta be up to you, princess," Puck said with a sad sort of smile.

"I should still eviscerate you for that nickname," Kurt said sadly.

"But you never will," Puck said, standing up. "Here. I made this for you." He reached into his backpack and took out a cheap red paper CD sleeve and tossed it down on the table. "Just...listen to it, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt said softly.

"Okay," Puck said, nodding. "See you around, Kurt." Then he was gone, the door closing behind him. Kurt took a moment and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of that stupidly wonderful-smelling spicy sports scent that Puck favored. His fists clenched. Had that conversation gone well? Had Puck understood his apology, or accepted it at all? Had they moved forward, backward? Were they still at the same damn standstill they'd been in since parting ways that awful Friday night?

Kurt leaned forward and slid the CD sleeve toward him. Inside was a cheap burned CD, with _Kurt_ written on it in Puck's messy writing in permanent marker. Frowning, Kurt took the CD and slipped it into his bag before he too stood up and headed out of the room with his head held high. One way or another, the conversation had _happened_, which was more than the three days of nothing that had existed between them. That was progress, that was _action_. Now he just had to figure out what kind of message Puck had left him on the CD, and figure out where they could go from there.

Figuring he wasn't the only one who'd be skipping glee today, Kurt shot Mercedes a text that he was going home, and headed to the parking lot.

**888**

_What on earth are you?_ Kurt wondered, staring at the CD where it sat, frustratingly innocent-looking, on his bedspread. It could be a data disc, but what would Puck want to send him? He instantly ruled out a heartfelt letter, because Puck hated English and everything to do with reading and writing, unless you counted comic books as literature. Perhaps a playlist of songs? But he and Puck had radically different taste, except as far as classic rock and a certain appreciation for some of today's Top 40 went. How far would a playlist get him?

"Hey, dude," Finn said, coming down the stairs. "I knocked, but you didn't say anything, so..."

"It's fine, Finn," Kurt said, still contemplating the simple red packaging. "What can I help you with?"

"I just...I wanted to say thanks, for giving me a chance this morning. And for telling everyone else to give me a chance. Glee today was really good. I apologized to everyone. I think Brittany is stopping Santana from killing me, but I think she'll get over it. And I totally had to promise to never get drunk around them again, which Rachel is down with, and...just, thanks, man." Finn smiled at him warmly, and Kurt returned the smile, thankful to his bones that there was no lingering awkwardness in it.

His realization when he was talking with Mr. Schuester had helped him in more ways than one, Kurt mused. Not only had it removed some of the poison around his memories of Finn and his stupid unattainable crush on the other boy, but it had saved their potential relationship as siblings, and that was something that Kurt would never be able to repay.

"What are you doing, bro?" Finn asked casually, startling Kurt with his easy usage of the word. But then, Finn got over things much quicker than Kurt ever did. _Maybe I should try that whole letting go thing_, Kurt thought. "You've been, like, sitting down here staring at that CD for forever."

"Puck gave it to me today," Kurt answered. "I don't know what's on it."

"So...why don't you put it in your computer and find out?" Finn asked, cocking his head to the side rather like a confused golden retriever.

"Because I'm nervous about what's on it," Kurt confessed.

"Well...I think it's probably something good. When me and Puck talked it out yesterday, he seemed way calm about everything," Finn said helpfully. "But you'll never know what something is about until you try it for yourself. You taught me that."

"Thanks, Finn," Kurt said softly. "I think I'm going to take your advice and just...do it."

"Cool. You want me to leave you alone for this?" Finn asked, heading back toward the stairs before Kurt could even formulate a reply.

"Yes, thank you. I'll see you at dinner," Kurt called after him.

"Yeah, yeah," Finn called back, closing the basement door behind him. Kurt took a deep breath, expelled it harshly, and stood up and headed to his desk to grab his laptop (a Mac Book, of course). Opening the disc drive, Kurt put the CD in and waited for it to load. His iTunes popped up, and Kurt's eyes widened. Puck hadn't...

The file name was simply _Kurt_, like the CD, and Kurt took another breath before he double-clicked on the file. A scratchy sound like static began to play through his speakers, like old recording equipment, and Kurt sank back onto his pillows and closed his eyes as the guitar began to play, running through the chords a time or two before a melody began to emerge, one that was awfully familiar. Then Puck's voice rang through the room, intense and focused, and Kurt had to swallow back a sob.

_It's been awhile_

_Since I could hold my head up high_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I first saw you_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I could stand_

_On my own two feet again_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I could call you_

_._

_And everything I can't remember_

_As fucked up as it all may seem_

_The consequences that are rendered_

_I've stretched myself beyond my means_

Puck's voice was husky and low, filled with passion, and Kurt couldn't believe the amount of sheer emotion that he'd managed to poor into something he'd obviously recorded in his room last night. His voice sounded like he'd been screaming before he started to sing, and Kurt's fists clenched as the song went on, the familiar melody striking every chord in his heart.

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I could say_

_That I wasn't addicted_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I could say I love myself as well and_

_It's been awhile_

_Since I've gone and fucked things up_

_Just like I always do_

_And it's been awhile_

_But all that shit seems to disappear when I'm with you_

_._

_And everything I can't remember_

_As fucked up as it all my seem_

_The consequences that I've rendered_

_I've gone and fucked things up again, again_

Kurt's eyes were welling up with tears before the second chorus had even begun, and as soon as Puck reached the line about messing things up, he was crying, desperately clutching onto his pillow, and wondering how in the hell he'd ever managed to let Puck go without one last kiss, one last goodbye...

_Why must I feel this way?_

_Please make this go away_

_Just one more face today_

_._

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I could_

_Look at myself straight_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I said I'm sorry_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I've seen the way_

_That candles light your face_

_And it's been awhile_

_But I can still remember just the way you taste_

_._

_And everything I can't remember_

_As fucked up as it all may seem to be_

_I know this means_

_I cannot blame this on my father_

_You've been the best thing cut from me_

_._

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I could hold my head up high_

_And it's been awhile_

_Since I said I'm sorry..._

**888**

If it hadn't been for the insanely complicated Cheerios routine that Kurt and the other cheerleaders were practicing day and night for, his entire week would have been enveloped by Puck. Thoughts of the other boy chased themselves like restless animals around Kurt's brain. _Down and up and down again_, he thought slowly. Puck had given him the CD on Monday, and it was now Wednesday. Other than nodding at the sight of each other in class or in glee, they'd kept their distance since Puck's...message to Kurt, the one that Kurt had placed on his iPod to listen to on loop over and over again.

What if he could give the same thing to Noah that Noah had given to him? A baring of the soul...but Kurt just didn't know if he was brave enough for that, not yet. Not face to face. _How cowardly_, he thought cuttingly, but it didn't stop that inner voice that told him quite firmly that if he approached Puck in the hall or in glee, guitar in hand, that he'd strike the first chord sour and never try again. He felt like his life was on a thundering train, heading to a fork in the tracks. One stop was safe – one stop was slipping back into anonymity, letting everything go, and only giving a crap about glee and getting out of Lima.

That other stop though...what was that line in _Rocky Horror_? _I've tasted blood and I want more_, Kurt thought wryly. That other stop was filled with excitement, with never knowing what was around the corner, with no longer obsessively planning his life to the last minute detail, with taking things as they come...with Puck. There really wasn't a choice, was there? He wasn't willing to not take that chance...but how was he supposed to find the guts to _do_ it now?

"I don't know how much help I can give you there, kiddo," Burt said honestly, wiping oil off his hands Thursday afternoon. "I don't understand guts the way that you do."

"What do you mean?" Kurt asked inquisitively. They were wrapping up a long afternoon at the shop together, and for a minute Kurt just breathed in the scent of cars and motor oil, letting it all wash over him and pretending just for that minute that he was still in ninth grade and he and his father had no one but each other, working together at the shop being their only real bonding time.

"I admire you, Kurt, I always have. Even before you _told_ me you were gay," Burt said, dropping the rag on the table. "I mean, I knew, in the back of my head. And I thought, how could _I _have raised this kid, who knows just who he is and wears what he wears and acts how he feels he should act, knowing what's waiting for him in this world, and doing it anyway? You're so much like your mother, Kurt, you don't even realize."

Burt continued a little more softly when he saw the tears welling in Kurt's eyes. "How much guts does it take to be yourself? Because you've got it and more. But you know what? This...Puck kid, you really like him. I can see it in your eyes. And he really likes you. And I hear all the time from Finn and the boys what a 'badass' this Puck character is – but he still needed to record you a song before he could sing it in front of you. Maybe you aren't alone in this whole nervous wreck thing."

"Dad...I love you, you know that, right?" Kurt asked, watery. Burt smiled softly.

"C'mere, kid," he said, sweeping his son into a bear hug. "I may not understand you all the time, and I may be thinking about grounding you for that stunt on the trapeze in the gym—"

"You heard about that, huh?" Kurt asked, pulling back a little.

"And I plan on having a firm _talk_ with that Sylvester woman, too," Burt growled menacingly.

"Dad, she would kill you. I like your bones the way that they are, not crushed beneath the merciless teeth of Sue Sylvester's juicer."

"_Anyway_," Burt continued, exasperated. "I love you, Kurt, and if this guy is worth it, then you should go for it. Just be sure, okay?"

"Okay," Kurt whispered, smiling through watery eyes. _I've held that fire and I've been burned..._

**888**

Kurt felt ridiculous. His dad and Carole had given him such _knowing_ eyes when he'd asked if they had any recording equipment in the house; he resolved to borrow such necessities from Artie and the questionless (and of questionable morals, considering how many bugs Rachel, Sue Sylvester and Lauren Zizes all claimed to have throughout the school) A/V club.

Now, here he sat, in the empty choir room after the frantic last Cheerios practice of Thursday night, janitors wanting to lock him out, with old recording equipment perched on the piano. He was flying completely blind, basing this entirely on his dad's theory that Puck was as scared of declaring himself in public as Kurt was. But he couldn't back down from this. This was it, this was _here_ – Kurt's one final gamble with nothing but a prayer that it would pay off. Reminding himself of New Directions' stunning sectionals upset and the feeling he'd had afterward, feeding off of that high, he cleared his voice and began to play the chords meant for a guitar, slow and sweet.

_I'm drinkin' wine and thinking bliss_

_Is on the other side of this_

_I just need a compass_

_And a willing accomplice_

_All my doubts, they fill my head_

_Cascading up and down again_

_Up and down around again,_

_Down and up and down again_

_._

_Oh, I've had my chances and I've taken them all_

_Just to end up right back here on the floor_

_To end up right back here on the floor_

_._

_Pennies in a well_

_A million dollars in the fountain of a hotel_

_Fortune teller who says "Maybe you will go to Hell"_

_But I'm not scared at all_

_Of the cracks in the crystal_

_The cracks in the crystal ball_

He'd picked P!nk because she was right up both of their wheelhouse's, a mashup of pop, rock, and theatricality, everything that had brought the two of them together in the first place and everything that had somehow led to them falling apart again. His voice gained strength on that thought, filled the room with passion – because, truth be told, he'd _never_ wanted what they had to fall apart. Maybe...just maybe...it could be stronger than before.

But not if he didn't at least _try_.

_Sometimes you think everything is wrapped up in a diamond ring_

_Love just needs a witness_

_And a little forgiveness_

_And a halo of patience_

_And a less sporadic pace, and_

_I'm learning to be brave in my beautiful mistakes_

_._

_Oh, I've felt that fire and I, I've been burned_

_But I wouldn't trade the pain for what I've learned_

_I wouldn't trade the pain for what I've learned_

_._

_Pennies in a well_

_A million dollars in the fountain of a hotel_

_Fortune teller who says "Maybe you will go to Hell"_

_But I'm not scared at all_

_Of the cracks in the crystal_

_The cracks in the crystal ball_

_._

_Irony_

_Irony_

_Is hate and love_

_Hate and love_

_What it does to me_

_What it's done to me_

_What it's done_

_Done_

Kurt took a moment to catch his breath, fighting back the tears starting in his eyes. He was sick of crying over this, and he vowed that he wouldn't, not again, not after tonight. This was it. This was his _moment_, and he would shine like the star he was, until he was too bright to behold.

_Pennies in a well_

_A million dollars in the fountain of a hotel_

_Broken mirrors and a black cat's cold stare_

_Walk under ladders on my way to Hell—_

_I'll meet you there_

_But I'm not scared at all_

_Mmmm_

_Of the cracks in the crystal_

_The cracks in the crystal ball..._

As the note faded away into obscurity, Kurt clicked the recorder off, and let out his breath.

**888**

"I think the entire damn school has been terrorized into coming to our 'pep rally' tonight," Quinn complained Friday morning. "I have aches in places I didn't realize you _could_ ache. I don't think that that's healthy."

"Just drink plenty of water, and your vocal chords will feel fine again," Kurt advised. "But don't make it too icy or it'll shock them. You want to soothe. Try tea."

"Um, yeah. Don't try to pretend that you aren't watching Puck's locker like a hawk, Kurt," Quinn said. "What are you plotting?"

"World domination, silly; now shut up, I'm waiting for something," Kurt snapped.

"Okay, but—"

"Here he comes!" Kurt hissed, and ducked behind Quinn's body, standing back to back so he was roughly hidden. Quinn let out an exasperated breath.

"_Really_, Kurt? I mean, _really_. This is the stupidest thing I've ever participated in—"

"No it isn't, now shut up or he'll stare at you," Kurt whispered. Quinn put her hands on her hips haughtily.

"He _is_ staring at me, you unadulterated _moron_, and I hope that you realize that I'm not speaking to you until after the pep rally, you're so damn—"

"Is he gone?" Kurt interrupted smoothly.

"_Yes_," Quinn snapped back. Kurt grinned and slung his messenger bag over his shoulder and took off down the hall toward Puck's locker, taking out his burnt CD case and slipping it in through the slots, pumping a fist in victory. "What the hell was _that_, Kurt?" Quinn called after him as he headed through the hall.

"Thought you weren't speaking to me!" Kurt called back.

"_Kurt Hummel_!" Quinn called back, Ice Queen fully in place.

"See you in glee, bitch," Kurt called back merrily (and a trifle meanly) before skipping off down the halls, Quinn's outraged death threats fading into the background. _Victory_! he thought happily.

**888**

Puck didn't show up to glee club, but Kurt wasn't particularly surprised. Quinn was shooting him evil stares at every text from her that he ignored (also, he was ignoring Rachel's frequent crazy-eyed smirks in his direction; frankly, it was terrifying and whatever part of her cat-sweatered psychosis she was involving him in he wanted none of it). It wasn't Puck skipping practice that had Kurt's palms clammy, it was the _after_ of him listening to Kurt's heart being poured out via bad recording equipment that had his heart pounding.

_**Present Day**_

"I can't believe that you talked me into coming into school after that Bataan Death March of a routine, on a _Saturday_," Kurt groused, following Finn out of his car. "I could be asleep _right now_. My beauty sleep is important, you know."

"So is this," Finn promised from up ahead. "Mr. Schue and everyone are here waiting for us. And how are batons deadly in March?"

Kurt had his head cocked to the side, pondering quite how to answer this, when they walked through the back doors of the auditorium and onto the stage. "What on earth?" Kurt asked, which seemed more important than answering Finn's question. The stage was...strangely beautiful, honestly. It was done up in greens and golds, with fake plants everywhere, sort of like a meadow out of a fairy tale.

"Hi Kurt!" Rachel called, bouncing up to him happily. Kurt did a double take. Rachel was dressed in white leggings and a white tank top, with fake fairy wings attached to her shoulders and stunningly done glitter covering her eyes and lips. "I'm so happy you made it; sorry that it was this early and unscheduled for you the morning after your big routine at the pep rally, but my dads will be going the next town over for dinner tonight and I'm supposed to be home to see them off before they go, so—"

"Alright," Kurt said slowly. He stepped further into the fairyland and shook his head as he saw Tina and Quinn in similar getup, glitter swoops and swirls over their skin emphasizing the fairy tale motif that for some reason had been erected in the auditorium. If this was an elaborate gay joke, he almost couldn't be mad about it; even the stage lights were shining in shimmering colors, transporting you to somewhere far away from Lima, Ohio, and even farther than that. Mike and Matt were also on stage, but they weren't costumed. The rest of the glee club...well, everyone except Puck (Kurt's heart twinged a bit) were sitting in the auditorium, talking, as Mr. Schuester walked down the aisle toward them.

"Rachel, I think you've got some explaining to do..." Kurt said slowly, turning to her.

"Well..." Rachel smiled prettily at him. "I think that this last couple of months have had their ups and downs, and they've changed the glee club in good ways. But one of the ways I like the most is that I think that you and I are kind of friends now." Kurt blinked, taken aback by the unabashed sincerity in Rachel's tone. His dad might think that he was brave, but Kurt was beginning to understand how much effort Rachel put into being completely herself every day. It was admirable, if a bit daunting. "I understand now why you threw the competition when we duelled over 'Defying Gravity' now, even though I didn't at first. Sometimes—" and here she threw a covert glance at Finn. "Sometimes, other things can be more important than being the star. That's why we're here today."

She handed him a sheaf of sheet music, and Kurt jerked back when he saw the title. "We're doing _Were the World Mine_? Are you serious?!" He looked up at Mr. Schuester, who chuckled as he approached them.

"Well, not the whole play," Rachel said apologetically. "But I thought that you and I, and our friends, might tackle the title song. I know it's meant to be a duet between two boys, but I think that you and I are progressive enough to overcome that boundary."

"But, Rachel..." Kurt said, blown away. "That second part is rather...small, for you."

"I know," Rachel said determinedly. "That's why I want to do it. I think that the lead is perfect for your voice, and we can harmonize together...that is," she said, sounding unsure for the first time that morning, "if you really want to sing with me."

It didn't take long to make a decision, really. "Of _course_ I do. But you do understand that the next time there's a solo up for grabs, it will be war."

"Oh, I'll take you down," Rachel acknowledged, but she was grinning bright enough to light up the stage. "I'm going to hug you now." Kurt sighed and nodded as she wrapped him in one of her very special brand of hugs, that was somehow more about comforting her than about someone else, but was still nice either way.

"Are you two ready?" Mr. Schuester asked from behind them, grinning.

"Aren't we always?" Kurt said mischeviously. Rachel giggled from behind him.

**888**

_I see their knavery_

_This is to make an ass of me_

_To fright me, if they could_

Kurt sang the opening lines alone, before the music began. He was perched at the front of the stage, all lights on him, reflecting off of the makeup and glitter over his face. Girly? Perhaps. But here, on the stage, he could forget everything that Lima was, all the judgement, and just _be_. This was his moment; he was in his _element_ – the spotlight.

_But I will not stir from this place_

_Do what they can_

_I will work up and down here_

_And I will sing, that they shall here_

_That I am not_

_I am not afraid_

_I am not afraid_

The rhythm of the harps and percussion kicked in, and Kurt began to move, slowly at first, and then faster and faster – an ecstatic dance, an abandon of reason like "A Midsummer Night's Dream" that the song was based upon.

_I know not by what power I'm made bold_

_But still you flout my insuffeciency_

_The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace_

_My ear should catch your voice,_

_My eye your eye_

_My tongue should catch your tongue,_

_Sweet melody_

_My tongue your tongue,_

_Were the world mine_

It was hard not to trip over the Shakesperean lyrics, but Kurt drew on the time as a child that he had been determined to memorize the lines from _Suessical_ and kept on, swaying back and forth like a serpent as he moved to the rhythm of the beat.

_And I will sing that they shall hear_

_That I am not_

_I am not afraid_

_I am not afraid!_

.

_Fairies 'way, fetch me that flower_

(**Up and down and up and down**, Mike and Matt intoned deeply, stepping up behind Kurt.)

_I will lead them up and down_

_Fairies 'way, swift as a shadow_

(**Up and down and up and down**)

_I will lead them up and down!_

Kurt stepped up to the front of the stage, his fake wings fluttering behind him, Matt and Mike and Quinn and Tina dancing in a whirlwind behind him, as he took a deep breath and reached for the highest and the lowest of his register for the swell of the song.

_Oh, why rebuke you him that loves you so?_

_Lay breath so bitter, on your bitter foe_

_On your bitter foe_

Finally, Rachel joined the stage, her ballet flats letting her step lithely and lightly as she sprung into her role, taking the spotlight as she usually did – but not eclipsing Kurt, finally, finally.

What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?

I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again

I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again

Mine ear is much enamored of thy note

So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape

I'll follow thee

I'll follow thee

And make a heaven of hell

Kurt stepped up, sharing the spotlight with his sometime friend, sometime rival, sometime enemy, but still it was good. They were shining together, their voices raising into a tremulous melody that carried through the auditorium and had their friends bursting into applause.

_And make a heaven of hell!_

.

_**Fairies 'way, fetch me that flower**_

_**Up and down and up and down**_

_**I will lead them up and down**_

.

_**Fairies 'way, swift as a shadow**_

_**Up and down and up and down**_

_**I will lead them up and down!**_

As Kurt and Rachel moved in an intricate dance, ballet and swift movements together, Quinn and Mike and Tina and Matt swirled around each other, away and then together again, their voices all joining together in a sweet harmony, the stage coming alive around them in that way that only New Directions could seem to make happen, their audience laughing and applauding as they continued their crazy dance.

_**Fairies 'way, fetch me that flower**_

_**Up and down and up and down**_

_**I will lead them up and—**_

.

_**Fairies 'way, swift as a shadow**_

_**Up and down and up and down**_

_**I will lead them up and down!**_

And finally as Mike, Tina, Quinn and Matt collapsed on stage, the lights dimming until only Kurt and Rachel remained in the spotlight, their voices blending together beautifully as they brought the number to a close.

_My ear should catch your voice_

_My eye should catch your eye_

_My tongue your tongue..._

_Were the world mine._

The applause may not have been deafening, but it meant everything to Kurt. He and Rachel were hugging and laughing as their friends cheered them on, and the only thing missing was one voice joining the crush as their friends joined them in a giant group hug on stage. Things might not have been perfect, but they were _good_, and that was worth more than he could name as the spotlight shined down on him at last, and he maybe understood what his dad meant about courage. Maybe he had more than he thought – _maybe_ he had enough to fix something important that was broken but on the mend.

**888**

Monday was interesting, to say the least. Finn and Kurt made it to school just in time to avoid the wrath of Mr. Ayers (who had never quite got over Kurt's little...outburst, when this had all started, and had since begun dogging his steps as the school year drew to a close). When they broke for their respective lockers, Kurt waved at Rachel, who waved back happily as she and Finn started talking. Kurt bounced over to Quinn and Mercedes, who were waiting for him as they chatted about Mercedes' budding romance with Eric from her church.

Kurt was overjoyed for his bestie, who had been longing for love for as long as he'd known her (window bashing aside). Mercedes was over the moon about her latest date, which had been a simple night at the bowling alley. The three walked down the hall and Kurt almost laughed as he fantasized that they looked like three of the witches from _The Craft_ after they'd found their power. Karofsky still gave them a wide berth, which Kurt found interesting – he'd never thought that standing up to a bully once would have them cowering. Maybe there was something more to Karofsky...but then, he was learning lately that there was more to most people than he'd ever given them credit for.

Maybe, in a totally non-supernatural way, he had found his power. He was more _alive_ now in ways that he hadn't been before – like a flower that had finally found the sun.

The three friends split up to their respective classes, and Kurt frowned when he walked into Math and found Puck staring determinedly at his desk. The fact that Puck had shown up at all was a miracle; even when they had been together, despite all of Kurt's haranguing, Puck rarely showed up for a math class. He complained that he didn't understand it, but Kurt was in on Puck's secret – he'd found Puck's homework and discovered that the other boy was months ahead of the class and was mostly just _bored_. But he was here, now, and he wasn't paying attention to Kurt.

Maybe he hadn't understood the song? Or hadn't liked it? Had he thought about the fact that the song came from a break-up album and jumped to conclusions? Kurt ran through scenarios in his mind frantically, trying desperately not to turn and stare at the other boy throughout the whole lesson. When the bell rang, Puck was the first out the door. _To hell with _this_,_ Kurt thought exasperatedly, and ran out after him. "Puck!"

But there was no sign of him.

**8**

The day continued basically Puck-less, and Kurt tried hard not to show how bothered he was by it all. He wanted this thing over between them – to know one way or the other where they stood. He hadn't been sure last week, but he was now. Kurt wanted everything that could come from playing with fire, with going through with having a relationship with Puck.

But Puck wasn't all that was on his brain that day, as he watched Quinn and Mike smile at each other sunnily over lunch. Kurt was coming to the conclusion that things were changing around him, and they were changing for the better. The truth was, no matter what the future would hold for him and Noah, he was secure in the knowledge that things could only get better from here. He couldn't wait to see what the future held for him – the future that he had once had such an icily clear vision of. The old Kurt had simply desperately wanted _out_, wanted away from Lima and to never come back, with dreams of stardom and no earthly idea how to achieve it.

Now, he had two televised cheerleading performances under his belt, both highlighting him as a singer and dancer, and New Directions' win at sectionals, plus their other performances that Rachel obsessively continued to load onto their YouTube channel despite the terrible reviews from their classmates ("They're just jealous of our talent, Finn," Rachel would say exasperatedly when Finn would beg her to take them down). He had a real shot at making it out of here, but he wasn't quite satisified with the thought of leaving Lima permanently in the dust nowadays. There was a lot here to be thankful for.

Bearing that thought in mind, Kurt headed into glee with a smile on his face that afternoon. Puck wasn't there yet, but he was sure to show up, and Kurt could force the issue after the meeting was over. It wasn't over between them; it _couldn't_ be. Nodding decisively, Kurt sat between Mercedes and Quinn and caught up on the day's gossip (Santana had been sent to the office for making two freshmen cry with her scathing commentary on their lives, again; Katrina and Jacob were having a hugely public breakup in the school's courtyard, _again_ (bets were running they'd be back together in a month; Kurt had his money in Santana's pool on the two week mark); and rumor had it that Schue was trying to subtly steal Ms. Pillsbury away from her new sweetie, _tres_ surprise).

"So, guys," Mr. Schuester began.

"Mr. Schue, I'd like to say something," Puck said from the door. Kurt looked up...and nearly fell out of his chair. Flabbergasted, he looked at Quinn, and then at Mercedes, both of whoms mouths were nearly on the floor. There was no explanation for this.

Standing in the doorway was Noah Puckerman, his feet in a new pair of converse, his muscular legs horribly constricted by ill-fitting skinny jeans Kurt recognized from his favorite store in the mall. Kurt's eyes traveled up to a badly-chosen Alexander McQueen button up to Puck's face, where he had the smallest hint of..._makeup_?! He looked like...well, like Kurt. Like Kurt on a bad, _bad_ day.

"Um...okay, Puck, you have the floor," Mr. Schuester said, looking like the rest of the kids. Puck scuffed his shoe self-consciously on the floor and stepped forward.

"So, I have something to say, to, well, all of you," Puck began. "I'm not real big on speeches, so here goes: Kurt, I freaking _love_ you, man. And I'm here to say it in front of everyone. Because I'm not ashamed. And I'm ready for both of us to be ready for it, together. We can take 'em all on, princess. So here goes. I hope you like it, 'cuz I ain't doing it twice." Puck gave them all an _If you laugh I'll kill you_ sort of look, which kept the room dead silent as he walked awkwardly (dear god, Kurt wanted to cut those jeans off of him, but he was kept rooted to the spot, his eyes welling, at Puck's little speech) to the band's usual place and took up a guitar. Standing in front of them all, Puck began to strum, a little hesitantly at first. Kurt couldn't place the melody, but it sounded so familiar...and then Puck began to sing, and Kurt forgot _everything_.

_I love that lavender blonde  
The way she moves  
The way she walks  
I touch myself can't get enough  
And in the silence of the night  
Through all the tears  
And all the lies  
I touch myself and it's alright _

It was Kurt's favorite track Lady Gaga had _ever_ done, simple, stripped, bare naked the way Puck was before all of them now. Kurt couldn't have stopped the tears falling down his face even if he'd _wanted_ to.

_Just give in  
Don't give up baby  
Open up your heart and your mind to me_

_Just know when_  
_That glass is empty_  
_That the world is gonna bend_

_Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine_  
_Stars in our eyes 'cuz we're having a good time_

_Eh-eh_  
_Eh-eh_  
_So happy I could die_  
_Be your best friend_  
_Yeah I'll love you forever_  
_Up in the clouds_  
_We'll be higher than ever_

_Eh-eh_  
_Eh-eh_  
_So happy I could die_  
_And it's alright_

Quinn took hold of one hand, and Mercedes the other, and Kurt turned turned in astonishment to Quinn, who looked just as amazed, just as speechless. Mercedes was already crying, nodding her absolute approval to Puck. Puck didn't look at either of them; didn't look at any of them, actually. He was just staring at Kurt, singing just to Kurt. And god, did Kurt understand about courage now.

_I am as vain as I allow  
I do my hair  
I gloss my eyes  
I touch myself all through the night  
And when something falls out of place  
I take my time  
I put it back  
I touch myself  
Till I'm on track_

_Just give in_  
_Don't give up baby_  
_Open up your heart and your mind to me_

_Just know when_  
_That glass is empty_  
_That the world is gonna bend_

_Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine_  
_Stars in our eyes 'cuz we're having a good time_

_So happy I could die_  
_Be your best friend_  
_Yeah I'll love you forever_  
_Up in the clouds_  
_We'll be higher than ever_

_So happy I could die_  
_And it's alright_

Kurt's heart could pound out of his chest; he was flushed, red for the world to see. It was everything he could do to stay in his chair, and yet he also felt that he could never move from this spot. There was a spotlight of sunshine on Puck, and Kurt forgot all about the stupid clothes and just took the gesture for what it was: Puck _loved_ him, and he loved Puck, and that was worth _everything_.

_Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine  
Stars in our eyes 'cuz we're having a good time_

_So happy I could die_  
_Be your best friend_  
_Yeah I'll love you forever_  
_Up in the clouds_  
_We'll be higher than ever_

_So happy I could die_  
_And it's alright_  
_Happy in the club with a bottle of red wine_  
_Stars in our eyes 'cuz we're having a good time_

_So happy I could die_  
_Be your best friend_  
_Yeah I'll love you forever_  
_Up in the clouds_  
_We'll be higher than ever_

_So happy I could die_  
_And it's alright._

Puck finished the song with a final strum of the guitar chords, and the entire choir room burst into thunderous applause. But that was all background noise to Kurt in that moment. He waited, oh, he waited until Puck unsurely put the guitar down, as the applause died down, as all eyes turned to him. Then he stood on steady legs and walked straight into Puck's waiting arms, wrapped his arms around Puck's neck, and pulled him into the best kiss of Kurt's life.

It was the kind of kiss that movies like _The Princess Bride_ were based on, the kind that lasted forever and yet was only a moment, pure in intent and yet communicating everything that could never be said aloud. Kurt's lips tingled with the pressure of Puck's as he pulled back slowly, and Puck's eyes crinkled as he smiled and wiped the tears out of Kurt's eyes. "You're crying, princess," he noted.

"I'm crying for that outfit; it's so atrocious," Kurt said weakly, and Puck laughed. "I love _you_, you moron, not this...I don't need this. I don't ever want you to have to change yourself for me. I love you, and nothing's gonna change that, not clothes, not anything."

"Thank god," Puck muttered. "Does this mean I can take this shit off? Because I gotta tell you, these pants are uncomfortable as hell."

"That's because they're the wrong size, _idi_ot, _and_ you put them on wrong, my god, can you do nothing right when it comes to clothes—"

"Oh, just because we can't all dress like freaking Twiggy all the time, we all suck, blah blah blah," Puck said, shoving Kurt to the side as they headed out of the choir room.

"Oh, you know who Twiggy is, hmm? That's impressive, considering if it isn't football you have the brain of a pea..."

His voice trailed off behind him as the entire choir room burst into applause, and to everyone's surprise, it was Santana who started crying first among the girls as the door shut behind the two, reunited at last.

_**Epilogue**_

Puck couldn't believe they had finally made it here. Just the two of them, just the way it was meant to be, under the stars, hand in hand—

"If you don't start walking faster, we're going to get caught!" Kurt moaned from behind him.

"Which of the two of us has more experience breaking into this place?" Puck returned. "And speaking of which, I can't believe that of all the buildings we could've broken into for your first B&E, you chose _school_; this is so lame I could cry."

"Oh, just shut up and get me in there and I'll do the rest. _Idi_ot." But the look on Kurt's face was fond in the darkness as Puck opened the door to the boy's locker room. Earlier that day, when Kurt had found him and point-blank asked him to help him break into the building that night, Puck had duct-taped the locking mechanism on the door so that it couldn't fully shut. There wasn't a trick out of a bad jail movie that Puck didn't know.

Not, of course, that he was ever going to let Kurt know that he'd never _actually_ broken into a building before. As Puck's nana said, there were some things that just needed to stay between you and God. Puck was totally planning on introducing Kurt to his nana soon; he was sure they'd do something totally girly and lame like swap recipes or something while he snoozed on the couch. It'd be the most excitement the blind old bat had all month, other than that time she'd fallen asleep smoking and nearly burned down her house.

"I'm actually kind of impressed, Puckerman," Kurt said as they wandered down the dark hallways, their way lit only by exit signs and emergency lighting.

"Yeah, well, I'm full of surprises," Puck said, waggling his eyebrows sexily. Kurt snorted and punched him on the arm, and Puck just laughed and totally didn't mention how hard Kurt punched because badasses did not tell their boyfriends to stop hurting them. Puck reflexively ran his hand over his Mohawk and caught Kurt rolling his eyes at him. "You love it, don't lie," Puck said defensively.

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt said, but he blushed and Puck knew that he had him. "Here we are."

"Dude, this is the choir room. We're here all the time." Puck was distincly unimpressed.

"Yes, but we aren't here _alone_ all the time, are we?" Kurt asked. He reached into his little man-bag and pulled out three or four candles. "Now light these and put them up, would you?"

Okay, Puck was a total badass, but even he could admit the ambiance was totally romantic as Kurt primly seated himself at the piano. It was hard, sometimes, even now, to reconcile the many sides of Kurt that the other boy had grown comfortable enough to show him in the last two weeks since they'd made up. This, this was classic Kurt – no hard edges, just a young boy with too much pride and too much culture for his own good in this cow town. Puck's heart swelled and to cover it up he coughed as he lit the last of the four candles and stepped back. "Now what?"

"Now you sit down and shut up," Kurt said with a smile as he lifted the keys on the piano. "I wanted to play this in front of the club, like you did for me, but I thought that this was better because we get along better in private."

"Dude, we totally have reps to maintain," Puck said with a shrug.

"Don't call me dude," Kurt snapped automatically.

"Okay..._princess_," Puck said with a smirk. Kurt loftily lifted his head and ignored him as he pressed down on a couple of piano chords.

"What I mean to say is, that I remember how upset you were when I was playing 'Loving You Is Easy' in front of Finn, back when things were still, well...a mess." Kurt's mouth tightened, and Puck looked away. That was one of those memories he was fine without, thanks. "But I understand why you were so upset, because you thought...anyway. I've been doing some thinking, about things my dad has said about courage. About how much courage it took _you_ to stand up and make a fool out of yourself in front of the club just to tell me you loved me.

"I want to show you how I feel about you, Noah, and this was the best way I knew how. This is the performance I never thought I'd have the courage to give." Kurt wasn't meeting his eyes now, embarrassed, and Puck kissed him, just because he _could_, because he knew that it was the easiest way to improve Kurt's mood. Kurt grinned into the kiss and pulled back. "Now, sit down and be quiet. It's not everyone that gets a Kurt Hummel serenade, you know."

"Oh, I feel the privilege," Puck said dryly.

Kurt ignored him and began to play, a complex, warm piece that Puck was unfamiliar with. It raised to a crescendo, and then dropped back down to a darker tone. Kurt turned to him with wide, innocent eyes, and began to sing.

_Under your spell again_

_I can't say no to you_

_Crave my heart and it's bleeding in your hand_

_I can't say no to you  
Shouldn't let you torture me so sweetly_

_Now I can't let go of this dream_

_I can't breathe_

_But I feel  
Good enough_

_I feel good enough for you_

Puck's heart was pounding a rapid tattoo in his chest as the lyrics hammered home, and he got the full register of what Kurt was giving him: his heart, to keep or to break. And maybe Kurt, hell, maybe everyone expected Puck to break it, but he wanted to keep it, and he wanted to keep it whole. He wanted so much...

_Drink up, sweet decadence  
I can't say no to you  
And I've completely lost myself, and I don't mind  
I can't say no to you_

_Shouldn't let you conquer me completely_  
_Now I can't let go of this dream_  
_Can't believe that I feel..._

_Good enough,_  
_I feel good enough_  
_It's been such a long time coming, but I feel good_

Puck wasn't even aware of how close he'd moved until Kurt's shoulder brushed his, but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Every time he touched Kurt, he felt a spark of electricity, that amazement within him that he was the only one who got to see Kurt like this, completely stripped bare, no boundaries or barriers between them. That Kurt's perfect porcelain facade would crack, just a bit, for Puck.

_And I'm still waiting for the rain to fall  
Pour real life down on me  
'Cause I can't hold on to anything this good enough  
Am I good enough for you to love me too?_

_So take care what you ask of me,_  
_'Cause I can't say no..._

As the note died away to nothing, there was silence, though not the uncomfortable kind that had so plagued the choir room in the past. Kurt's eyes were still closed as a slight smile played across his face, and Puck slowly linked their hands together – fingers crossed like a promise as the flickering candlelight warmed them, saved them, as their lips met in a kiss.

_The End_

_**Songs used in this chapter:**_

"_Give Me All Your Luvin'" by Madonna (featuring Nicki Minaj & M.I.A.) _– Performed by Quinn, Kurt, Santana, Brittany and the Cheerios at the Cheerios final pep rally of the season. This song is absolutely ridiculous. It is just pure, unadulterated fun, and I was trying to capture some of Madonna's _epic_ Super Bowl performance here. How'd I do?

"_Heartbeat" by Madonna_ – Listened to on Kurt's iPod while getting ready for school. This is one of the better cuts off of "Hard Candy", and it's a lot sadder than it sounds at first. It seemed like a good fit with the lines "I don't want you to save me/Don't mean to disappoint you; I've never felt so free". That is, BTW, how I picture Kurt's downstairs abode. Don't judge me.

"_Money Honey" by Lady Gaga_ – Played on Kurt's car stereo as he and Finn go to school together. This song is also ridiculous; it's one of the dumber ones off of "The Fame", but I really wanted to emphasize the lack of bitterness left between Kurt and Finn. I'm addicted to Furt brother fic, so there you have it.

"_It's Been Awhile" by Staind_ – Performed by Puck. This idea came at me out of nowhere, but it seemed like such a good fit for Puck that I had to leave it in there, leading us to:

"_Crystal Ball" by P!nk_ – Performed by Kurt. Another idea that came out of nowhere, but again, a perfect fit.

"_Were the World Mine"_ _from the musical of the same name_ – Performed by Kurt, Rachel, Quinn, Mike, Matt and Tina. This is a ridiculously cute gay musical that follows the footsteps of "A Midsummer Night's Dream", hence the Shakesperean song. This is the second tribute to it I've paid in this story, and kudos to those who recognize where the other one lies...

"_So Happy I Could Die" by Lady Gaga_ – Performed by Puck. The titular song; I've had that scene playing in my head for as long as I've been working on this story but it was the hardest to write and took the longest. Go figure. Still, I think it came out good.

"_Good Enough" by Evanescence_ – Performed by Kurt. This should need no explanation.

And, at thirty-three pages, I'll leave you guys here. There's a longer author's note and soundtrack post on the next 'chapter,' if you're interested. If not:

**Thank you for reading this, and I love you, in a totally gay sort of way. Reviews are appreciated.**


	16. Final Author's Note and Soundtrack

**A Final Note from the Author,**

_**and**_

**The Complete Soundtrack to _Kurt's Gamble_**

_It is finally finished_. That was the first thought that crossed my mind when I delivered that final epithet "The End" to the bottom of Chapter 15 (and I am really damn proud of that chapter).

When I first started _Kurt's Gamble_ I had just finished watching "Journey", the finale to season one, and my head was bubbling with ideas. It was the first time in a long time that my muse had sparked as much of an interest as it did, and it was exciting. You'll notice that the first four or five chapters simply aren't as well-written as the rest – I have pretty exacting standards in grammar and spelling for myself before I post something. The reason for that was that I was rushing them out a chapter a night. I've never updated something that fast; the ideas were hitting me like bullets – although, funnily enough, I didn't even realize I'd written a badboy!Kurt story until I was nearing the end.

By the time I finally mapped out the final steps of this story, chapters thirteen to fifteen—those pivotal plot moments—this story was already rounding 400 reviews (and is now at over 500, which is half a thousand, which is _insane_), had been recommended on different sites, and was the most successful of all of my stories. It's pretty damn dear to my heart, and it's been a joy sharing this with all of you.

_**On that note...**_

You'll never quite realize how sorry I am for that insane stretch of time between the posting of the fourteenth and fifteenth chapters. What happened to me during that time is intensely personal, and it was a very dark period of my life. Had I actually sparked enough interest in writing during this time, Jacob Ben-Israel would have become a school shooter and ended the story pretty damn quick (also, incidentally, the reason I never updated _Phantasmagoria_ during this time, funnily enough). For everyone who sent me questions and words of encouragement during this time, you'll never know how grateful I am for you. I've come out of something horrible and done something good with it – in fact, I'm graduating from my final semester at college in a couple of weeks (the real world is waiting for me, folks, but here I still am).

_**And so, to all of my readers, all those people who favorited, who shared, who recommended, who followed, who took any time with this story – and especially, especially, those who took the time to review:**_

I humbly thank you from the bottom of my heart. You are the reason that this story is now complete. There were days that I simply sat and read the pages of reviews left on this story and used that to spur myself on. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_.

_**And so, with that wheezing waffle (to quote one Albus Dumbledore) out of the way, I now present:**_

Glee

_Kurt's Gamble_

The Soundtrack

(_**Arranged by Title, Original Artist, Performed by within the story, and Original Album and Release Year. All songs are posted on YouTube, to the best of my knowledge, and it's pretty easy to make a playlist on that site. If someone's interested in making a fanmix, please PM me and I'll post it.**_)

_What Is This Feeling? (from "Wicked")_ – Idina Menzel & Kristin Chenoweth [Kurt & Rachel] _Wicked_ Original Broadway Cast Recording (2003)

_Droplets_ – Colbie Caillat (_featuring_ Jason Reeves) [Kurt's iPod on the bleachers, Chapter Two: _Duck and Fire_] _Breakthrough_ (2009)

_So Damn Beautiful_ – Poloroid [Kurt & Puck] _Nip/Tuck_ Original Television Soundtrack (2004)

_LoveGame_ – Lady Gaga [Kurt, Santana, Brittany, Mercedes & Quinn] _The Fame_ (2008)

_Leave Me Alone (I'm Lonely)_ – P!nk [Puck & Quinn] _I'm Not Dead_ (2007)

_Come to Me_ – Megan McCauley [Kurt] _Better Than Blood_ (2007)

_I Am Music_ – Aaliyah, Timbaland & Static (of Playa) [Puck & Kurt] _Ultimate Aaliyah_ (2005)

_Superfabulous_ – BT (_featuring_ Rose McGowan) [Kurt & Puck] _Charmed: The Final Chapter_ (2006)

_Heavy in Your Arms_ – Florence + the Machine [Kurt & Puck] _The Twilight Saga: Eclipse_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2010)

_So Yesterday_ – Hilary Duff [Quinn & Kurt] _Metamorphosis_ (2003)

_Semi-Charmed Life_ – Third Eye Blind [Puck, Quinn, Rachel, Kurt & Mercedes] _Third Eye Blind: A Collection_ (2006)

_Porcelain_ – Moby [Playing on the radio, Chapter Eight: _Porcelain_] _The Beach_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2000)

_Porcelain Doll_ – Megan McCauley [Kurt] _Better Than Blood_ (2007)

_Schadenfreude (from "Avenue Q")_ – Natalie Venetia Belcon & Rick Lyon [Quinn, Mercedes & Rachel] _Avenue Q_ Original Broadway Cast Recording (2003)

_People Are Strange_ – The Doors [Puck & Kurt] _The Very Best of The Doors_ (2007)

_Paint It Black_ – The Rolling Stones [Puck & Kurt] _The Very Best of The Rolling Stones, 1964—1971_ (2011)

_Hung Up_ – Madonna [Quinn & Kurt] _Confessions on a Dance Floor_ (2005)

_Part of Your World (from "The Little Mermaid") _– Sierra Boggess [Rachel] _The Little Mermaid_ Original Broadway Cast Recording (2008)

_Airplanes_ – B.o.B. (_featuring_ Hayley Williams of Paramore) [Rachel & Matt] _B.o.B. Presents: The Adventures of Bobby Ray_ (2010)

_Part of Your World (Reprise) [from "The Little Mermaid"] – _Sierra Boggess [Rachel & Matt] _The Little Mermaid_ Original Broadway Cast Recording (2008)

_Belle (Reprise) [from "Beauty and the Beast"] _– Susan Egan [Quinn] _Beauty and the Beast_ Original Broadway Cast Recording (1994)

_The Beauty Underneath (from "Love Never Dies")_ – Ramin Karimloo & Charlie Manton [Artie & Quinn] _Love Never Dies_ Original West End Cast Recording (2010)

_God Is a DJ_ – P!nk [Quinn] _Try This_ (2003)

_Everyone's a Little Bit Racist (from "Avenue Q")_ – John Tartaglia, Stephanie d'Abruzzo, Natalie Venetia Belcon, Jordan Gelber & Ann Harada [Mike, Tina & Mercedes] _Avenue Q_ Original Broadway Cast Recording (2003)

_My First Kiss_ – 3OH!3 (_featuring_ Ke$ha) [Santana, Brittany, Jocks & Cheerios] _Streets of Gold_ (2010)

_Meet Me in the Red Room_ – Amiel [Brittany] _Moulin Rouge! Vol. 2_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2002)

_Lady Marmalade_ – Myá, P!nk, Lil' Kim, Christina Aguilera & Missy Elliot [Santana & Brittany] _Moulin Rouge!_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2001)

_Don't Make Me Over (Glee Cast Version)_ – Amber Riley [Mercedes] _Glee: The Music, Vol. 2_ (2009)

_Colorblind_ – Counting Crows [Finn & Mercedes] _Cruel Intentions_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (1999)

_Alejandro_ – Lady Gaga [Kurt] _The Fame Monster_ (2009)

_I Like It Rough_ – Lady Gaga [Puck] _The Fame_ (2008)

_Starstruck_ – Lady Gaga [Puck, Kurt, Mercedes & Tina] _The Fame_ (2008)

_Poker Face_ – Lady Gaga [Puck & Kurt] _The Fame_ (2008)

_Telephone_ – Lady Gaga [Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Tina, Quinn, Rachel, Santana & Brittany] _The Fame Monster_ (2009)

_Bad Romance_ – Lady Gaga [Kurt, Puck, Mercedes, Tina, Quinn, Rachel, Santana & Brittany] _The Fame Monster_ (2009)

_Speechless_ – Lady Gaga [Quinn] _The Fame Monster_ (2009)

_Don't Tell Me_ – Madonna [Quinn & Kurt] _Music_ (2000)

_Music_ – Madonna [Rachel] _Music_ (2000)

_That's How You Know (from "Enchanted") _– Amy Adams [Mike & Matt] _Enchanted_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2007)

_Fuel_ – Metallica [Kurt] _ReLoad_ (1998)

_Before He Cheats_ – Carrie Underwood [Santana] _Some Hearts_ (2006)

_Loving You Is Easy_ – Sarah McLachlan [Kurt] _Laws of Illusion_ (2010)

_Harem_ – Sarah Brightman [Kurt, Quinn & Cheerios] _Harem_ (2003)

_American Pie_ – Madonna [Quinn, Finn, Artie, Puck, Mike, Kurt, Mercedes, New Directions & WMHS Students]

_Dirty Little Secret –_ Sarah McLachlan [Kurt] _Afterglow_ (2003)

_The Last Song I'm Wasting on You_ – Evanescence [Kurt's song in Chapter Thirteen: _Medley_] _The Open Door_ B-side, released with the "Lithium" single (2006)

_Devil Wouldn't Recognize You_ – Madonna [Finn's song in Chapter Thirteen: _Medley_] _Hard Candy_ (2008)

_Don't Tell Me_ – Avril Lavigne [Puck & Kurt's song in Chapter Thirteen: _Medley_] _Under My Skin_ (2004)

_It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World (Glee Cast Version)_ – Dianna Agron [Incidental from Chapter Fourteen: _It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World_] _Glee: The Music, Vol. 3 — Showstoppers (Deluxe Edition)_ (2010)

_I Say a Little Prayer (Glee Cast Version)_ – Dianna Agron, Naya Rivera & Heather Morris [Incidental from Chapter Fourteen: _It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World_] _Glee: The Music, Vol. 1 (Deluxe iTunes Edition)_ (2009)

_Eh, Eh (Nothing Else I Can Say) –_ Lady Gaga [Quinn, Mike, Artie & Tina] _The Fame_ (2008)

_Time to Say Goodbye (Sarah's Intimate Version)_ – Sarah Brightman [Rachel] _Eden (Deluxe Edition)_ [**Note: This bonus track is the English language version of _Time to Say Goodbye (Con te Partirò), originally an Italian-language duet between Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli_**]

_You Keep Me Hangin' On (Glee Cast Version)_ – Dianna Agron [Incidental from Chapter Fourteen: _It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World_] _Glee: The Music, Vol. 1_ (2009)

_Broken_ – Seether (_featuring_ Amy Lee of Evanescence) [Finn's car stereo on the way to IHOP from Chapter 14: _It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World_] _The Punisher: The Album_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2004)

_Reverie_ – Megan McCauley [Kurt] _Better Than Blood_ (2007)

_The Descent (Confessions of a Ghost)_ – Mark Salling [Kurt & Quinn] _Pipe Dreams_ (2010)

_Papa Don't Preach (Glee Cast Version)_ – Dianna Agron [Incidental from Chapter Fourteen: _It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World_] Glee Cast single, available on iTunes (2009)

_The Promise_ – In This Moment [Puck's stereo while working out at the WMHS gym from Chapter Fourteen: _It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World_] _A Star-Crossed Wasteland_ (2010)

_Extraordinary_ – Liz Phair [Dairy Queen radio station while Burt and Quinn eat illicit ice cream in Chapter Fourteen: _It's a Man's, Man's, Man's World_] _Liz Phair_ (2003)

_Give Me All Your Luvin'_ – Madonna (_featuring_ Nicki Minaj & M.I.A.) [Kurt, Quinn, Brittany, Santana & Cheerios] _MDNA_ (2012)

_Heartbeat_ – Madonna [Playing on Kurt's stereo while getting ready for first day "back" in Chapter Fifteen: _So Happy I Could Die_] _Hard Candy_ (2008)

_Money Honey_ – Lady Gaga [Playing on Kurt's car stereo while driving Finn to school in Chapter Fifteen: _So Happy I Could Die_] _The Fame_ (2008)

_It's Been Awhile_ – Staind [Puck] _Break the Cycle_ (2001)

_Crystal Ball_ – P!nk [Kurt] _Funhouse_ (2008)

_Were the World Mine (from "Were the World Mine")_ – Tanner Cohen & Nathaniel David Becker [Kurt, Rachel, Tina, Mercedes, Quinn & Mike] _Were the World Mine_ Original Motion Picture Soundtrack (2008)

_So Happy I Could Die_ – Lady Gaga [Puck] _The Fame Monster_ (2009)

_Good Enough_ – Evanescence [Kurt] _The Open Door_ (2006)

_Born This Way: The Country Road Version_ – Lady Gaga [The writing of the final author's note] _Born This Way (Deluxe Edition) [Disc 2]_ (2011)*

**The author would like to thank Jessica, for her wonderful beta-ship of the final chapter and words of gentle encouragement when necessary, Ptera_Waters, for everything, and IceQueenRia, for her phenomenal Puck/Kurt stories and for encouraging reviews throughout the way.**

**The following albums were particularly instrumental to the writing of this story:**

_**Better Than Blood**_** by Megan McCauley, particularly "Migraine", "Fragile", "Come to Me" and "Porcelain Doll".**

_**The Fame**_** by Lady Gaga, particularly "LoveGame", and "Poker Face".**

_**The Fame Monster**_** by Lady Gaga, particularly "So Happy I Could Die" for fuelling the final chapter.**

_**MDNA**_** by Madonna, particularly "I Don't Give A" for Kurt's attitude theme and especially "Falling Free" for being epic.**

*****_A quick note on "Born This Way", to anyone who's interested: I didn't like the album. There are a few songs (_especially_ "Y__o__ü and I") that I thought were quite good, but most I just truly didn't like. One of the problems, I think, is that I was a Madonna fan long before I was a Lady Gaga fan and I really didn't like how original Lady Gaga used to be and how clearly derivitive of "Express Yourself" "Born This Way" really is. If you don't like the title track and the theme of the album, you're probably not going to like the album...but this version, the southern-rock style "Born This Way: The Country Road Version", oddly enough, I really, really liked. I thought it was original and quite good. So there you have it._

**Well, my friends, this is the end, for real this time. Thank you for your time, your patience, and again, just thank you. If you're looking for more from me on the **_**Glee**_** front, I'll be working solely on **_**Phantasmagoria**_**, a Kurt/Sam AU, from this point forward, and my Kurt/Blaine epic (if I do say so myself, damn but that sucker took forever) **_**The Hollow Men**_** is also located on this site. A ****thousand times thank you and goodbye.**

—_**The Drowned World**_


End file.
